One Friend to Another
by LenaLove
Summary: Lord Elrond of Rivendell shares a private letter from one old friend with another old friend, the wizard Gandalf. He hopes for help and advice with the problem contained in the missive. Nominated for the 2006 MC Awards.
1. One

-1** One Friend to Another**

………………………………

**The old wizard stood in the expansive and book-crowded annex of Elrond's study, and unfolded carefully the missive in his hand. He glanced once at the elf lord who stood at the window, his back to the Maier. Elrond's hands gripped lightly at the balcony rail, his eyes distant, listening. He heard the gentle rustle of paper, the wizard clearing his throat. Then Gandalf began to read out loud. **

"_Lord Elrond_

_I trust this letter finds you and your family well. Your advisor, on our last meeting, informed me of the human waif you have taken into your care. I hope you know what you are doing. But do not come running to me when the child grows up into a Man and kills half of your realm"_

**Despite the tense atmosphere in the room Gandalf laughed. **

"**He is serious, mellon nin" Elrond intoned, still looking out the window.**

"**I know" Gandalf harrumphed. "That is what is so funny"**

"**Please…." The lord of Imladris bowed his head, not amused in the slightest. "…read on." **

**The wizard complied, reading silently this time. He paused. **

"**It continues with meaningless drivel about humans in general and how you elves should not mix with them" His voice getting grumpier by the minute, Gandalf cleared his throat. "The damned king of Mirkwood will never change"**

**Elrond raised a hand to his brow, messaging his temples as if a great headache was growing behind his eyes. Which it was. **

**The Lord of Imladris had read the letter many times since he had received it from the hands of Legolas just last night, before the prince, exhausted by his long trek to Rivendell from Mirkwood had taken himself off to rest in his room after a brief supper with Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir. He had read it then, and he had read it many times since, thinking over it's contents….and it's messenger, who now currently sat on the grass in the private garden below Elrond's balcony, in the company of the twins and their little human charge. **

**Gandalf glanced at him, then serious once more, began to read aloud again.**

"_As you may have gathered in your almighty wisdom, my friend, it is not with unintentional purpose that it is the Prince of Mirkwood that carries to you this letter." _

**If the wizard thought it odd that Thranduil would address his son by his full title, he said nothing. He did however raise his eyebrows at the sudden change in subject in the letter, and he did not miss the just as sudden change in the style of the old king's writing. As the letter continued, the Elven scrawl grew more shakier, less sure…..and even water stained in places. He read on, intrigued now. **

"_The darkness encroaches ever further into the realm of the Greenwood. The shadow of Dol Gudur creeps ever closer into my realm. My warriors, led by my last remaining son, struggle hourly, daily, monthly and yearly to keep the darkness back. We have lost many good elves in the past battles. Some have fallen to the black arrows of the orcs, others to the evil of the Shadow, many more have been taken"_

**Gandalf read solemnly now, the pain in Thranduil's words sinking in. He sighed. It was nothing he did not know, did not worry about daily in his own mind, but to have it worded in front of him in the script of the elven king hit it ever harder home. Mirkwood was fading. He sighed heavily, and once again resumed his reading.**

"_As you know, my friend, my eldest two sons have sailed long ago with their families and friends. I do not begrudge them leaving to seek safety for those they love. I miss my sons, but I still have my youngest and he will not sail. Not yet. Not now. _

_He is barely in the prime years of his life, yet it is he who leads my warriors in to battle with the enemy. It is he who commands the scouting trips, the skirmishes with the orcs, the main struggle to keep back the shadow from our beloved Greenwood" _

**At this Gandalf gasped. This he did not know. The young prince? Barely over two millennia in age, the General of Mirkwood's army. He did not know whether to be proud or worried. The elfling had exceptional skill with the bow and sword and knives, had the sharp mind of a tactictioner and a bravery that rivalled Glorfindel, Elrond's own general. But for Thranduil to have to risk his own son in the face of such constant danger belied all of Gandalf's belief. Things were truly bad in the Greenwood. The letter continued:**

"_Legolas and his warriors have managed thus far to keep the Shadow at bay. He has faced insurmountable odds to keep coming back to me in small victories, and I can not express my pride and love for him. And the guilt I have felt every time he must go out again into the Shadow. I have no doubt that without his plans and strategy and skills, coupled with that of my older and more experienced warriors, we would have all fallen long ago. But it is there that we have paid the price" _

**The old wizard paused once more, the contents of the letter weighing heavy on his heart, the words getting harder and harder to read aloud. If this was how painful it felt to read the inner thoughts and fears and confessions of King Thranduil, how hard must it have been to write them? He read on again, and if he thought the previous writings were gut-wrenching, what was to follow was much, much worse. **

"_My son has not escaped these battles unscathed, my friend, and it is here that I must implore for your help. He has seen childhood friends fallen or taken, friends that he commanded, took responsibility for, friends that followed him loyally to face the enemy with pride and determination and love. But he does not grieve for them._

_He has taken wounds to his spirit every time one of his friends succumbs to the Shadow. He stumbles to deal with the Shadow in his heart. But he does not cry._

_He has taken hurts to his body from those vile orcs, with poisoned arrows and blades and whips and Shadow sickness. My healers have bandaged him and cared for him. But he does not heal. _

_My son suffers for the pain that Greenwood must live with. But he will not stop. He carries on and leads still, no matter how I now implore him to stay at home, stay with me where I know he can be safe. He is the Prince of Greenwood, Elrond. He should be at court here with me, yawning with boredom at council meetings, He should be attending diplomatic trips to Dale, lounging as the prince he is under the stars at Harvest celebrations and laughing with the elleth under the trees. But he does not laugh. _

_Legolas does not know the contents of this letter. He thinks I have sent him to you as a General of the army he has become, for advice on the struggle against the Shadow. He probably suspects that I implore your help and the use of Valya in the defence of our Kingdom. He is only half right, my old friend. _

_I implore your advice, yes, but not in the defence of Greenwood against the Shadow. That is our struggle, and for now, ours alone. _

_I implore your help in the defence of my **son** against the Shadow that has taken him. I seek your healing for the hurts and pains that plague him, ones that I have tried and failed to get him to admit to and heal. Wounds to the spirit, to his body, to his pride. _

_I send you the Prince of Greenwood in the hope that you, if any one, can restore and make whole again the elf that is my only child. _

_Please do what you will to aid him. Please get him to admit his pain and suffering and help him heal. Let him stay with you and the twins, his friends, in the hope that the beauty that is Imladris can reach the dying fea of his spirit and get him to open up to you. "_

**The old wizard read the next part with a catch in his throat:**

"_I send to you, my oldest and dearest and most skilled friend, a wounded battle weary General of a failing army. Please, mellon nin, return to me my beloved son." _

**The letter was signed simply "Thranduil". In the silence that followed the reading of that last paragraph, Gandalf re-read it, then read it again, and each time the meaning was simple, plain and heartfelt. **

**When Gandalf's voice stopped at the end of the letter, Elrond sighed heavily and once more rubbed his aching temples. He again gripped the balcony rail, and cast his eyes out into the private garden three storey's below him. There, wrestling and rough-housing among the pear trees his twin sons, Elrohir and Elladan, wrestled with a human child of around 5 years of age. Legolas sat limply under the shade of a pear tree, to all appearances an elf who hadn't a care in the world. Elrond knew the prince well, though. He knew that the prince of old would have been joining in and probably bettering the twins in their pranks with the child, would have been laughing along with the giggling boy and would by now have hurled either Elladan or Elrohir….or both…into the ornamental pond in the centre of the garden. He had watched the beings below as Gandalf had read the letter, and had seen the twins' futile attempts to get the prince to join in. They had baited him, insulted him and joked with him, but all the prince had done was smile tiredly and asked them to leave him alone. **

**Elrond turned from the scene outside and finally faced the grey wizard. **

**Gandalf appeared to be reading the letter again to himself, digesting the words and their meaning…and the pain of a father's dilemma behind them. **

**He looked at Elrond and met his eyes, reading there the same pain that dripped from the words on the page. **

"**You do not know how to help him, do you?" the wizard asked simply. **

"**No" Elrond closed his eyes in despair. "No, I do not, mellon nin". he turned and sat heavily in the huge chair behind his desk. **

"**I spoke to Legolas this morning, hoping to draw some kind of sign from him that he needs help. He seemed tired, yes. Burdened by the Shadow that encroaches on his home even as we speak. He worries for his father as much as his father worries for him". Elrond couldn't help a sad smile at the irony of it. "But if he is in pain, in need of help, he hides it well. He is too well schooled in the stoic ways of the prince, Gandalf" he sighed. "I cannot lock him in the Healing Rooms and tie him to a bed. I cannot plead with him to open up to me, to let his burden show so that he may release what shadow bears him down. He has to come to me, and I cannot see him doing that, anytime soon" **

**Elrond looked up from his desk to see that the wizard had wandered over to his own previous place on the balcony, no doubt viewing the merrily chaotic scene below in the gardens. The wizard had his hands behind his back, his back to Elrond, his eyes indeed on the occupants of the garden. **

"**All hope is not yet lost, Elrond" the wizard declared enigmatically. "There is one who may succeed yet where Thranduil has failed."**

**Surprised by Gandalf's words, Elrond left his chair and joined him at the open window to the balcony. The elf glanced at him then followed his gaze to the figure of the blond prince under the tree. The twins were nowhere to be seen, and Elrond surmised they had obviously been worn out by the child and gone for rest or to fetch food for the boy and their royal elf friend. **

**The object of the letter sat with his legs stretched out before him, his back against the tree, his eyes closed. The early morning sun shone on his face, glittered in the long golden locks. Reclining on the grass beside the young elf was the human child, his head on the prince's lap, his eyes closed in his usual mid-morning nap. **

**Whether he was aware of it or not, Legolas had his hand on the boy's head, fingers absentmindedly stroking and combing the child's tangled mop of dark hair. **

**On his arrival to Imladris, Legolas had barely acknowledged the tiny human beyond asking where he came from with mild curiosity then dismissing the child once that curiosity had been answered. For his part the child had become fascinated by the golden haired elf, once he had learned that Legolas was a prince of his own huge woodland realm and a warrior to boot. He had pleaded with Elladan to ask the Mirkwood elf to teach him archery. Elladan had asked and been turned down, much to the chagrin of the boy. Undaunted though, the child had taken to watching the prince from a distance whenever Legolas was around. Legolas had noticed but ignored the boy's fascination. In fact he had totally ignored him as if the child was but an annoying puppy to steer clear of. Until now. **

**Elrond found himself smiling as he took in the touching scene of the child and the reclining elf. He watched the scene fondly, two figures he loved like sons. The human child because he had vowed to protect him and nourish him until adulthood as his own son, and the Mirkwood warrior who's once sunny smiles and quirky humour and musical laughter had often gladdened the heart of every elf who met him. The Mirkwood warrior that no longer smiled or laughed and kept such pain deep in his heart that no-one could reach, but had just found comfort in a tiny human child that his own father had begrudged Elrond adopting. The suffering adult and the innocent child. The immortal and the mortal. Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood and Estel, future king of Men.**

**The hopeless soul and the boy named Hope. **


	2. Two

**One friend To Another**

**Chapter 2. Fine**

**Legolas pushed open the door to his allotted room in The Last Homely House of Rivendell and strode over immediately to the window, stopping only briefly to throw his tunic onto the huge bed. The elf opened the double doors and stepped out onto the small railed balcony and gazed out into the dark night with a sigh, his hands reaching automatically for the railing and leaning his weight there as the slight breeze played with his unbraided hair. **

**A smell reached his nose from the flora that surrounded the sanctuary that was Imladris, the smell of dew dampened grass, the nutty smell of Autumn browned leaves and, just barely detectable, the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle. **

"**A sanctuary" he whispered to himself. **

**He had often heard the realm of Elrond referred to as such by his fellow Wood Elves when they grew tired of the darkness and danger of Mirkwood and retreated in their waking dreams to the green lush waterfall dotted world of Imladris. Did Elladan or Elrohir ever grow tired of the peacefulness of Imladris and imagine themselves defending a dark forest full of gigantic spiders and loathsome orcs, he wondered. Probably, knowing those two. They never stayed cooped up in Rivendell for very long, always looking for some excuse to hunt in the surrounding countryside for deer.though more often than not stirring up some orc nest instead and coming home battered, bruised and invigorated after defeating them and getting a lecture from their Adar as he patched them up. He had heard their tales of adventures in Imladris, they had both never been slow in bragging to him how many orc they had killed, how many minor wounds Elrond had to patch up. **

**Was an adventure all the dark war was to the twin sons of Elrond? He thought to himself. What was Mirkwood then? An adventure to rush into with excitement and eagerness and bravado to brag about later? Would they brag about the elves they had seen fallen, the elves that remained unaccounted for on return after each mission? Would they laugh at how the orc blade almost took their heads off if not for the elf captain that had instead shot down the vile creature? **

**With a heavy sigh Legolas shook away the dark thoughts that were welling up and closed his eyes against the guilt that gripped his heart like a vice. He was being unfair, he knew that. The twins were braver than some he had met, had a duty to keep the realm of Imladris free of encroaching orc raids and Shadow. It was the twins and Glorfindel and many others that fought hard to keep this place the sanctuary it had become. They kept it safe with their grand orc-hunts and adventures. **

**The wind suddenly turned chilly and Legolas shivered as his silk shirt was whipped up around him. He straightened with a wince and turned to go back into the bedroom behind him to retrieve his tunic. Goosebumps pricked the flesh of his arms as he walked back in, as his cold skin met the warmth of the fire heated room. Whether it was the sudden cosy heat of the room or the dark turn of his thoughts outside, Legolas wasn't sure but he suddenly felt bone weary. A great tiredness permeated his entire being, an ache flowed through every muscle in his body and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. **

**Glancing once more out into the night shadows, Legolas tried to remember the last time he had sung. The last time had been here, in Rivendell, in this bedchamber, on that balcony at night, he had stood there and sung a soft melody to the moon. His voice had risen high, reaching the farthest outposts of Imladris in a stirring ballad. All who heard the beauty of that voice knew who it was that sang, and they smiled to themselves at the beauty in the singing voice, the joy in the words and melody.**

**He could not bring himself to sing now. **

**Lifting his tunic from the bed Legolas carried it to the wardrobe and hung it up then pulled off his shirt, depositing it on a nearby chair for the laundry maid to collect tomorrow morning. Turning toward the bed he strode to the basin of washing water waiting beside it on the night stand, scooping his hands into it and splashing his face with the cool clean water. Straightening he caught a glimpse of his face in the small vanity mirror in front of him and froze, feeling the water drip down his face and onto his bare torso as he stared at the stranger's face looking back at him. When had his face turned so gaunt, his eyes so dull? Was this the face of a great brave warrior...or a prince? **

**Legolas felt shame well up inside him at the shadow he had become. He had thought he had kept it all hidden. Did Elrond, the twins or Glorfindel see this when they looked at him? Is this why he had caught pity in their eyes tonight at supper? He thought back to several hours previously, when they had all gathered on the steps of the Last Homely House to bid goodbye to Mithrandir as he took off on another of his mysterious quests into the wilds. None of the household were surprised that the wizard was leaving already. In these dark times he never stayed in any one place for too long. The wizard had clasped forearms with Elrond in fond farewell, had slapped the twins on the back and warned them to stay out of trouble with a grin. Then he had walked over to Legolas and placed one gnarly hand on his shoulder and given it a gentle squeeze, a strange distant look in his eyes. **

"**Farewell, Son of Thranduil" the wizard had bade him in a voice no louder than a whisper. "'til we meet again" **

**Then the wizard had leaped onto the horse he was borrowing from Elrond with a grace that belied his great age and galloped out of the arched gates and into the distance. **

**Fear and self-loathing bubbled up into Legolas' chest from the deep pit of his abdomen as he remembered that look from the old Wizard.**

**He hated to be pitied, hated to be looked on with such love and understanding. He didn't want that . He wanted them to hate him, not pity him. Hate the shadow that he had become, just as he hated himself. **

**Legolas looked up again at the mirror before him, tearing his eyes away from the unfamiliar face reflected there, and looked deeper into the glass of the mirror to the room behind him. He saw the flickering shadows cast into the darkened room from the fireplace. He had forgotten to light any candles when he had entered and the red and orange glow from the flames was all the light the room had to offer. **

**But he could see just fine. **

**He could see the reflection of the dressing table that stood by the closed doorway of his wardrobe. He could see the huge mirror above the table that threw the view of his back into the smaller mirror before him. He could see the dark scars that were etched like permanent markers of suffering across his back and shoulders. The old scars of past whips and daggers that cut across the milky perfection of his glowing elven skin. **

**He looked away from the images in disgust, and cast his eyes instead down to his torso, to the scar in the centre of his left pectoral from the black arrow he had received six months ago and that should have disappeared shortly after, erased by his elven powers of healing. The puckered skin was a stark reminder of that long night in Mirkwood when he had led a large patrol out into the forest. The previous patrol had reported spiders larger than ever seen before in the far west and Legolas had gone out with his best scouts to find and destroy them. They had found the spider nests easily and attacked, catching the huge arachnids off guard. The fight should have been over quickly, the spiders defeated, the patrol safe and on their way home before dawn. But it had not gone that way. **

**As the last spider had fallen Legolas had watched the huge corpse tumble down from the tree he was fighting in, following the black shape to the ground as it landed on it's back and lay still. Satisfied the hideous creature was dead he turned to his captain to give the signal to regroup on the ground - when suddenly he felt himself flung back against the tree trunk with an excruciating pain in his chest. He had felt the air driven out of his lungs, the fiery pain scream through his body, and the long hard fall to the ground just as the spider had done not moments before...**

**When he awoke days later back in his room in the palace, his father had told him that half of his patrol had been killed, cut down by orcs as they stood in defence of their prone prince lying helpless on the forest floor. Thranduil named each elf that had fallen that night, each soldier and friend that had given his or her life for their prince. His father did not blame him. Their families had not blamed him as he stood by the king's side another week later as the entire realm sang a lament to the dead elves. Nobody blamed him for the huge loss to the realm that night. Nobody had to. He blamed himself. And they knew it. **

**He had stood by his father and sung with his people the haunting lament of bravery and mourning and loss, and he asked himself over and over in his own head why they had died and he had lived. **

**They had been _his_ responsibility. He was the one who should have sent out a scout to comb the area for the orcs that he should have known would be working in league with the spiders and had been laying in wait until the elves relaxed and give up their positions in the trees and then fired every poison-tipped arrow they had at the unsuspecting warriors.**

**_Unsuspecting._ **

**He should have known they were there. He should have checked the bushes that dotted the entire area for danger. He should have sensed their presence. He should have...**

**Legolas let out a gasping sob and his head raised again to the mirror in front of him as he struggled to breathe . Now the gaunt stranger that stared back at him had tears coursing down his cheeks to run in rivulets down his scarred chest. He felt the pain now from the wound just as fresh as the day he had woken in the palace. He had lied when he had told the healers that the wound no longer pained him and he felt fine and able to go back out with his warriors on patrol again. If anyone had asked him if he was alright if he stumbled or they caught a wince on his face if he had moved too suddenly he always gave them all, including his father, the same answer, with the same tired smile plastered on his face. "I am fine"**

**Legolas washed the tears from his face, pulled back the sheets and climbed into the warm inviting bed.**

**He waited for sleep to claim him and the nightmares to begin. **

**He was anything but fine. **

**TBC.**


	3. Three

**And so we have the next instalment, finally. This one has a little bit of light entertainment after the heavy emotions of the first two chapters. But only a little. R and R please! **

**One Friend To Another **

**Chapter 3: Feet and Food**

………………………………

**Elrond strode through the corridors of his house as an elf on a mission. He strode with purpose, and any who passed him had no doubt that whoever was to be on the receiving end of the Lord of Imladris' mission was in for a telling-off. Or worse…a lecture. The truth was, however, that his mind did not reflect the strength and determination of his stride. Though no frown marred his features, inside he was in turmoil. **

**He had talked with Gandalf all of the previous morning and afternoon on the problem of the suffering Mirkwood prince. When the wizard had to leave on one of his mysterious quests later that day, Elrond has sequested himself in his study to think on the words he and the wizard had exchanged. The two wise beings had talked themselves around in circles, then alone in his study Elrond had thought himself around in the same circles. Now it was the next morning, the occupants of the Last Homely House were rousing out of slumber and he had slept on the problem, but was still no nearer to having any clue how to get through to Legolas. The only conclusion he had come to was that it was time to talk to the prince. And that is where he now found himself heading, for the bed chamber of his illustrious guest on the third level of his house. **

**Turning the last corner into the corridor that held the family rooms, Elrond ran smack dab into the flying form of Estel. Skidding his bare feet on the cold floor in a vain attempt to stop, the boy tripped over his long night gown and grabbed for Elrond's robe in an effort to keep himself upright. Only Elrond's natural grace kept the two of them from landing on the floor in a heap. **

"**Estel!" he mumbled, righting the boy to his feet. "What on all of Middle Earth is the hurry, boy?" **

"**Ada, save me from them!" exclaimed the boy, ducking in behind Elrond's knees and bunching his adar's robe over his face.**

"**Save you from who, you little tyrant?" The lord asked sternly, but vainly trying to keep a smile from his face as he swivelled around to face the boy. His answer came in two forms at the same time. **

"**Them!" came the reply just as two furious and identical male elves came flying out of their respective rooms to lunge at Estel, but they stopped on seeing their father and froze.**

"**Ah" Elrond stood with arms folded and eyebrow raised as Estel once more ducked behind him, and waited for the explanation of the early morning chaos. "This aught to be good" **

"**Ada, do not protect him!" began Elladan, the eldest twin starting forward again, and Elrond noticed for first time that the twins were only half-dressed.**

**Elladan's tunic was unbuttoned and he carried his boots in his hands. **

"**Just wait to you hear what he has done" continued Elrohir, in much the same state of undress as his brother, except he was hopping on one booted foot and carried the other boot in his hand, his hair in total disarray. **

"**I _am_ waiting" Elrond replied. "Very patiently, I might add" The one sardonic eyebrow rose again. "But I shall not be patient for much longer, so if one of you would care to….." **

"**He put mice in our boots!" blurted Elladan.**

"**..and spiders!" added Elrohir, shaking the offending boot wildly as if to loosen whatever foreign body might still reside in it. **

"**Mice and spiders" repeated Elrond calmly, trying very hard not to laugh and so far succeeding. He could feel the small boy trying to bury himself further into the back of his knees. Estel mumbled something behind him, but as he had his face buried in crimson velvet, Elrond could not be sure he heard him right but it sounded like "…only little ones". **

**At this moment the door at the farthest end of the corridor opened and Legolas stepped out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. The elf was fully dressed to perfection, his hair immaculate and not a mark or wrinkle on his soft suede leggings or brown leather tunic, his shirt a crisp white. He stopped on seeing the gathering he found before him, his face impassive as he studied the half-dressed twins and the Lord of Imladris with his robe slipping from one shoulder thanks to the cowering human child behind him. **

"**Do not ask" was all Elrond said. Disengaging the child he turned on his heel to leave. **

"**Get dressed Elladan, Elrohir" he called back over his shoulder as he walked away. "And do not kill your little brother just yet" he added, his voice growing more distant as he turned the corner. "He cannot clean your rooms every day for the next week if you do!" **

"**Oh no" groaned Estel "Ada!". Not cleaning. He hated cleaning. He was so small it was hard to reach the high places or stretch to the awkward recesses.**

**The twins chuckled at the childish sulk appearing on the face of the boy. **

"**You can start by scraping squashed spider from inside my boot!" Elrohir told him, ruffling the mop of dark brown hair on the boy's ever-untidy head and pushing the offending footwear into the boy's arms. **

"**..and mice droppings from mine!" Elladan added, swatting the back of Estel's head playfully as he headed back to his room to find another pair of boots and finish dressing. Still laughing at the sulking face of his tiny adopted brother, Elrohir glanced up to where Legolas still stood. **

"**Legolas. Perhaps you would see fit to lend me a pair of your spare boots, mellon nin?" he asked. "I seem to remember my other pair getting torn to shreds by bramble bushes last month and I know your feet are about the same…." **

"**I have no spare boots with me" Legolas replied softly as he stepped past the little group. "If you will excuse me, I think breakfast should be served about now" **

**Elladan and Elrohir stood staring after the retreating back of the Mirkwood elf as if they were statues. **

"**That was odd" Elladan stated bluntly.**

"**Extremely odd" his brother agreed. **

"**The vainest elf in all of Middle Earth has no spare boots with him" Elladan sounded incredulous.**

"**He usually brings at least two pairs" the younger twin verified. **

"**Yes……in case one pair get dirty or torn" said the other. Elladan met his brother's eyes. "I am getting really worried about our princely friend" he added with sincerity, suddenly serious. **

"**As am I, 'Dan" Elrohir replied heading into his room. "As am I"**

**The two adult elves walked off bootless to their own rooms to dress and finish preparing for breakfast, leaving the young human boy in the now empty corridor. **

**Estel remained standing and staring in the direction the Mirkwood elf had disappeared in, the elven boots in his arms all but forgotten, a frown on his cherubic face.**

** >>>>>>>**

**When the twins finally reached the dining room breakfast was already well under way. Elrohir had Estel perched high on his shoulders as he entered. He deposited him in an empty chair next to Elrond and joined his twin at the serving table to get two plates of food, one for him and one for his little brother. Deep in conversation with Erestor, Elrond automatically poured a glass of grape juice for the boy. **

**All those gathered tucked in to a hearty breakfast of fruit juice, pancakes, fruit salads and various breads and cheeses while they talked. All except one. The prince of Mirkwood sat next to Glorfindel, deep in conversation about the defences of the Woodland Realm and the increase in spider nests.**

"**The spiders grow in size, Glorfindel" Legolas was saying quietly. "They get larger, bolder and certainly just last month we…"**

"**Are you going to eat that?" a young voice chimed in at Legolas' elbow. Estel had greedily cleaned up all of his own food and had been perusing the table for any leftovers he could polish off, bored with all the "grown up" talk going on around him. The plate of food in front of Legolas looked too tasty to ignore. **

"**Excuse me?" Legolas looked down his nose at the small boy, only just now realising that he was there, and Estel had the feeling that he should have kept his mouth shut. **

**Suddenly finding himself under the cold glare of two deep cerulean eyes Estel felt like he did two days ago when he had to go to Elrond and explain just how the elf lord's favourite vase had fallen and smashed to a million pieces. So he did what he always did when nervous. He ranted. **

"**Um…it's just that I am still hungry and you are not eating and I hate to see food not eaten and are you going to eat yours………." **

"**Breathe, little one!" Elladan implored with a laugh, ending the boy's panicked rant. He had seen the arrogant glare in Legolas' eyes and hastened to intervene. Estel immediately stopped, lowering his head to stare at his empty plate. **

"**Legolas" Elrond took this moment to also intervene "Do you have any plans for today?" **

**Legolas started, then his face relaxed as he regarded his elder. "Plans?" the prince twisted to face the elf lord, barely concealing a slight wince as the action pulled on his old injuries. He caught himself and hid the wince in a frown as if he was deep in thought. **

"**I had only thought to practise some archery in the woods, Elrond" he replied finally. "If you wish for me to assist in something more important, then of course I will agree to whatever you require of me"**

"**No, that is fine. Your time is your own here, Legolas. You may do as you wish" Elrond smiled in a manner that he hoped would put the formal young elf at ease. "The twins both have classes to give to the novices today, and Erestor, Glorfindel and I have a trade meeting with the local village leaders today, so we are all going to be busy for rest of the day. But perhaps you could do me one favour and take Estel?" he added suddenly, just when Legolas was beginning to relax. "he has no classes today, and with the rest of us busy……." He trailed off, letting the rest speak for itself. **

**Immediately Elrond had named Estel, the stoic prince-mask slammed down onto Legolas' face. He glanced once at the boy, then favoured Elrond with a smile that did not reach his eyes.**

"**Of course the boy may accompany me" was the reply. Legolas had the feeling he had just been cornered. "If you will excuse me, I will go prepare my bow" **

**With that Legolas pushed his chair back and stood. He bowed once to each of the elder elves and walked stiffly from the room. **

"**He still didn't eat his breakfast" Estel piped up, once more regarding the elf's abandoned plate of food. **

"**No he hasn't, has he" Elrond agreed quietly, more to himself than anyone else. He regretted not having his chance earlier to speak to the troubled young elf, thanks to the intervention of his sons. Sighing, Elrond exchanged meaningful glances with Glorfindel, Erestor and the twins and the silent understanding was clear. Keep an eye on the prince. **

**Unaware of the silent communication around him, Estel slid the plate of food towards himself and tucked in, still hating to see good food go to waste. **

**Besides, he was going to need his strength if he was going to learn some archery from a certain sullen Mirkwood prince. **


	4. Four

**A.N: Wow, the reviews are flying in. I may have missed replying to some of you. Apologies but I was writing this when they came in and I was afraid to stop. I was on a roll. So sincere thanks to all of you. As I told NiRi, reviews are what keep us writers writing! **

**Slightly longer chapter, this one. My muse didn't want to stop, but I had to put the brakes on eventually or this would never have gotten finished. I use some elvish words here and there in this fic but haven't bothered with translations, I figure you all know what "ada" "mellon nin" and so on mean. If you would prefer I did put in translations, please let me know. **

**Enjoy. J **

**One Friend to Another**

**Chapter 4: Fun**

………………………………

**The walk to the archery field was a long one. **

**At least it seemed that way to Legolas. In truth the practise field was just beyond the stables in a large clearing before the first edges of the dense trees that protected Imladris from unwelcome eyes. Under normal circumstances Legolas could make the walk in twenty minutes from the front door of The Last Homely House. Today it seemed to be taking hours. **

**Legolas had shortened his stride to accommodate the short legs of the small boy tripping at his heels. Yet he still had to continually stop and wait for the child to catch up, and twice he had to backtrack and pull the panting child back to his own two feet after he had unceremoniously tripped over them and fell sprawling. **

"**If the child would only stop talking he would not be using up his breath!" the prince thought to himself irritably as the boy ran panting behind him. **

**Estel jogged furiously to keep up to the long legged blond elf, all the while chatting incessantly about the prank on his brother this morning, and pranks he had played in the past, then he had continued regaling Legolas on the jokes and escapades the twins had pulled on the likes of Erestor and Glorfindel. **

**To all these tales Legolas said nothing. He let the boy ramble on and struggle to keep up with him while steadily walking on, lost in his own thoughts. In truth he was struggling to stop himself cursing Elrond in every language he knew for lumbering him with the boy. **

**He had wanted to immerse himself in his own thoughts away from the family and advisors and the many occupants of Imladris under the pretence of practising his bowmanship. He had not wanted to be saddled with babysitting a 5 year old adan. **

**As the human babbled on about some strange tale involving the dye from pink rose petals and Glorfindel's shampoo, Legolas found himself struggling to just put one foot in front of the other. As always, he felt weary from lack of sleep and poor appetite, and nightmares that plagued him when he did sleep. He felt sore from the cloth of his shirt irritating old scars and every movement pained over-used and undernourished muscles. **

**Legolas raised his head and realised they had finally arrived. The buildings of the stables and warrior barracks and various other outhouses had given way to the open area that served as the weapons practise fields. The meadow was huge and the end they now stood at held sturdy carved wooden weapons tables whilst the area immediately in front of them was laid out in numerous paths running parallel to each other, well worn by numerous elven feet that used them to walk the long distance to the targets at the end of each to retrieve their arrows or throwing knives after practise. To Legolas' left was a large arena of sand used for hand-to-hand combat and sword training. With a grateful sigh the prince realised he had the whole place to himself, no soldiers or warriors were anywhere in sight. **

"**Are we there yet?" came that annoying little voice and Legolas internally corrected his earlier thought of solitude. He had company after all, if not exactly a warrior. **

**On the boy's back was a small quiver full of blunt practise arrows. Though the quiver was small and the arrows purposely blunt, they held almost as much beauty as the hand-made and lethally sharp arrows in Legolas' own quiver. Nor was the quiver itself any more plain than the elf prince's own, which had been etched with a design of a resting peacock. Estel's quiver was etched with a horse's head, it's neck arched gracefully and full long mane flaring as if blown by a great wind. Legolas had noticed the quiver when he had collected the boy from his elven nanny that morning, and though he had said nothing he had been caught by the life-like beauty of the horse. He surmised that the child's equipment had been lovingly decorated by one of the twins. Elladan, he guessed, knowing that twin's love of all equines. **

"**So what now, Leg'lass?" the boy asked innocently, dropping his small bow from his shoulder to the grass. **

"**_Now_ you pick your bow up again and check it for damage from that throw to the ground!" Legolas told him sternly. "You must treat all weapons with care. Such a toss to the ground could damage the string, which in turn could snap just as you fire at some attacking orc" **

**He looked down at the small being and saw the split second frown cross the small face, to be chased away by an innocent smile**

"**But there are no orcs here, Leg'lass" he said, as if the elf prince was silly not to notice this. **

**Legolas fought not to roll his eyes at the boy. "I know, Estel. But tomorrow there might be, and if not then the day after that". **

**Estel was the one to roll his eyes as Legolas turned from him to lay his own huge bow and quiver on the nearest weapons table to count arrows and check his own string for the hundredth time. The young boy was beginning to get the feeling that the archery lessons he had been looking forward to for days were not going to be much fun. **

………………………………

**He was right.**

"**No Estel" Legolas was telling him sternly from where he crouched behind the boy, his knees either side of the child standing in front of him, whose bow was strung and ready to fire. "Do not aim for the target! Aim above the target, like this……" he added, adjusting the boy's aim upwards slightly. "As I told you before, if you aim straight for the target the arrow will fall short. You must aim above the target to allow for the weight of the arrow as it flies in an arc, _not_ a straight line!" **

**Estel shifted his feet and felt the long fingers of the elf behind him push into his shoulder and swivel his upper body slightly to the left. **

"**Do not move from this position" his instructor told him, standing and backing off from him a few feet. "Now pull back and fire" **

**The boy pulled back on his miniature bow and let go, his little arrow flying away from the string and sailing into the air towards the marked tree…only to '_thunk'_ harmlessly into the wood nowhere near the marking and fall to the ferns under the great bough. He turned to his instructor in triumph, sure that that arrow had come closer than any of his other tries, eager for praise from the prince for his near-miss. But Legolas had one hand to his eyes messaging his temples in frustration. **

"**You did not pull back far enough" Legolas all but groaned. "You need to pull back to the extent of the bow, anchor the string at your back tooth like I showed you and _then_ let go!" **

"**I did!" Estel retorted in disappointment and, despite his best effort, with a pout. **

"**You did not!" was the reply. "You did _not_ pull back far enough!" **

"**My arms are tired" the boy protested, and just then his stomach gave an almighty rumble. "And I am hungry" he added as an afterthought. **

**Legolas was about to respond about how hunger and tiredness cannot impede a warrior when in battle, when the archer and his budding apprentice were jolted by a distant shout. **

"**Anyone up for some lunch?"**

**The elf and the boy turned to see Elladan and Elrohir come striding towards them, a huge picnic basket swinging between them as they walked. **

"'**Dan! 'Ro!" Estel was delighted to see the twins and - his earlier telling-off already forgotten - cast his bow to the ground and ran to meet them, flinging himself into Elrohir's arms, almost knocking the huge basket to the ground. **

**Legolas groaned in annoyance and bent to pick up the small bow, placing it with his own on the weapons table as the twins reached him. **

"**So, young prince" Elladan addressed Legolas as he hoisted the basket to the weapons table and turned to give the prince a gentle slap on the shoulder. "How goes the archery lessons?" **

"**The boy refuses to learn anything" he grunted in displeasure. "I tell him one thing, he appears to listen, then abruptly does the exact opposite!" **

**Elrohir felt the boy sag in his arms at the prince's words.**

"**Legolas, he is but a child…..you must be patient with him" **

"**Yes, a mortal child" Legolas retorted, his voice beginning to rise in anger. "He does not have time for patience. What he learns now must serve to extend an already short life, but if he will not listen and learn….."**

"**Legolas!" Elladan barked sharply, aghast at the prince's candour, cut off any further comment. "What has gotten in to you, my friend?" **

**Confused at the twin's displeasure, Legolas quirked his head to one side and studied him. **

"**You wish me to teach him archery, do you not?" he asked, perplexed. "That is what I have been doing, yet he continually refuses to……" **

"**Legolas, please…" Again Elladan interrupted him. "We wished only for you to give the boy some pointers on archery…..not turn him into a killing machine after one day!" **

**Elladan checked to see Elrohir had taken the boy out of earshot of them, then continued when he saw his twin take the little one to the marked tree to show him his accomplishments. He took Legolas by the arm of his tunic and led him to sit on a soft patch of moss nearby. **

"**You should not take this so seriously, prince" Elladan elaborated with a slight smile. "Estel is only 5 years old. Barely the equivalent of an elfling in our years. You cannot expect him to learn all you have learned in your two millennia just yet" **

"**We were hoping the two of you would have fun" the elf added as casually as he could, getting comfortable on the soft ground. **

**At this Legolas looked at him as if Elladan had just suggested running naked across the meadow. He couldn't believe what Elladan was telling him. Had he been set up….not just by Elrond as unofficial babysitter, but by all of them? **

"**Legolas" Elladan began again softly, meeting the shocked gaze of the prince with a sad look of his own. "When was the last time you had fun?" **

**When indeed. **

**Legolas rested his long arms on his raised knees and stared at his boots. Fun? He could barely remember what the word meant. Then he suddenly remembered enjoying the wind in his hair as he galloped a grey stallion through the close knit trees of Mirkwood once. It was so long ago he couldn't remember the name of the horse. He remembered a Harvest Festival in the grounds of his father's palace and dancing under the stars with a beautiful elleth his brothers had teased he was going to marry. He couldn't recall her name either……..**

**That had all been before. Before the Shadow grew in Mirkwood and all but blotted out the sun and stars. Before he had seen most of his friends cut down in battle to orc or wolf or warg. Before his brothers had sailed, taking their wives and children with them to the Undying Lands, leaving him with the responsibility of a tired army of warriors and a despairing king and father. **

**Elladan sat quietly and watched the emotions play over the face of his friend. One by one he saw them chase across the fair features. **

**Then just as suddenly all emotion was gone, the oft worn stoic mask fell into place on the youthful face and Legolas abruptly sprang to his feet. **

"**I do not have time for fun, Elladan" he declared coldly. **

**And Elladan could only watch wordlessly as Legolas retrieved his bow and quiver from the table and stalked off to the target for the advanced elven warriors a little way off and fired arrow after arrow into the far away target with perfect precision, until his quiver was empty. **

………………………………


	5. Five

**A.N: Sorry for the delay, real life intervened as it is wont to do occasionally. **

**_italics:elvish_**

**One Friend to Another**

**Chapter 5: Feel**

………………………………

"**Well" Elrohir started as he pulled himself to his feet and dusted crumbs from his tunic "I believe the sun is telling me it is time to get back to my unruly class of elflings" He stretched like a cat, then bent to pull his brother to his feet. **

"'**Ro….. 'Dan…" Estel began softly from his spot on the grass next to the now empty picnic basket. He looked up with pleading in his eyes. "Can I come with you? Please?" **

**The twins looked at the boy, then looked over to Legolas who stood a little way off, then they looked at each other. They knew what had prompted the request, but they also knew the words of their father earlier this morning after Legolas and Estel had left the breakfast table. **

**Elrond had not given either of them any details, but when they had both turned raised eyebrows at him after his surprise announcement that Legolas should give the boy archery lessons, the Lord of Rivendell had just answered "Trust me. It will be good for both of them" and had left it at that. **

**Estel knew by their faces he wasn't going to like the answer. **

"**I am afraid not, Estel" Elladan told him, not without sympathy for the boy's feelings. "We are both busy little one, and Ada has important business to attend to. Legolas is the only one free to keep an eye on you….."**

"**..and see that you do not get into any trouble" Elrohir interjected with a grin "Like putting more spiders in my boots!" His cheering -up tactic did not work, however. **

**The young boy glanced over at the prince, who was retrieving his arrows from the most distant target at the far end of the practise field. He hung his head with a pout.**

"**I do not like him" he stated honestly "He scares me" **

**The twins exchanged glances again, then Elladan crouched down in front of his tiny brother and ruffled the unruly mop of hair, his favourite sign of affection. **

"**Legolas does not mean to scare you, Estel. He is a good, kind and brave elf and he only wishes the best for you" He chucked the boy gently under the chin. "Be good for him and do as he says and you will be fine" **

**The twins retrieved the picnic basket and headed back across the meadow towards their home. They turned as one before they disappeared to wave at Estel. **

"**We will see you later, _pen neth_"**

**From his spot just a few yards away from the reclining boy, Legolas had heard Estel's words to his adoptive brothers. The blond elf stood near the weapons table where he was once more filling his quiver after another lightening fast round of target practise. During the picnic he had eaten little, only choosing an apple from the basket and a flask of clear clean water. **

**His quiver filled he leaned against the trunk of a great old oak, and watched the twins leave the field. He sighed despondently. A great weariness had settled over him again, and he raised one hand to press it to the gnarled bark of the tree, seeking whatever strength the ancient tree could offer him. The tree in truth brought little comfort. It returned the wood elf's greeting with respect, but mostly he felt worry and concern from it. Concern for him and worry for the state of the wood elf's health. **

**Estel had stood to fetch his own arrows and quiver when he noticed Legolas standing at the tree, eyes closed as if deep in thought, one hand pressed to the bark. He saw various emotions pass over the elf's face, even a brief smile, and his curiosity got the better of him.**

"**What are you doing?"**

**Legolas jumped at the sudden query and his eyes flew open to gaze at the boy. He had briefly forgotten Estel was in his company as he communed with the old oak. He patted the tree as he would a friendly dog in farewell, and once more approached the weapons table. **

"**I was talking to the tree" he stated to the child. **

**Estel was astounded. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he stared at Legolas like he had grown another head. Then a horrid thought entered his own head and he looked like he might cry.**

"**You are teasing me" he said in a small hurt voice and Legolas looked at the child, surprised in the sudden change of tone. **

"**No, little _adan_" he assured the boy. "I speak truthfully. I am a Wood Elf. We can all speak to trees, and they to us"**

"**But I didn't hear anything" Estel replied. "What do trees sound like?"**

**Legolas couldn't help a small smile at the boy's innocence**

"**I was talking to the tree with my mind, Estel. With thought. And the tree responded with thoughts of it's own" **

**He paused to find the right words to describe something that came as naturally to him as breathing. He approached the boy and sat down on the dry warm grass with a languid folding of long legs. **

"**The tree conveys thoughts to me and all elves of my kind, by emotion. I can hear what it says by feeling what if feels. I feel if it is happy, if it fears danger….and if it feels worry"**

"**Danger?" the boy repeated. He glanced about the large meadow warily. "Does the tree sense danger here?" **

"**No, not here. In my home of Mirkwood, the trees warn us of danger. Approaching bands of orc, spider nests and the like" **

"**You are the prince of Mirkwood" Estel stated obviously. "What is it like to be a prince?" **

**It was Legolas' turn to be astounded, by the sudden change in topic. Was it a human thing to talk thus, or a childish thing? He couldn't tell, and he did not have the words to answer the boy's question. Did he tell the truth and go into details about his responsibilities to his people, his command of warriors, the fight to keep back the ever-encroaching shadow? No, in true elf style he answered with a question of his own.**

"**What is it like to be a human boy?" **

**The boy frowned as he digested the new query, and he plopped down on the grass beside the prince, deep in thought. **

"**I do not know" he eventually answered with a shrug of small shoulders. "I just am" **

"**That is what it is like to be a prince" the elf returned. "I just am, too" **

**Estel found himself smiling at the blond elf, all previous declarations of fearing him vanishing as they talked and relaxed finally in each other's company. **

"**I suppose if I asked 'Ro or 'Dan what it feels like to be a twin they would reply the same" he declared. **

"**Probably. They 'just are' too" Legolas agreed. "though they may add that it is wonderful and horrid all at the same time" he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows. **

"**Horrid?" the boy frowned.**

"**Oh yes" Legolas lent back on his hands in the grass and gazed up at the cloudless sky. "They would both say that it is wonderful to have a brother and friend, one to watch their back as they steal pastries from the kitchen…and to share the punishment from Elrond when they get caught" **

**Estel giggled at the mental image the prince's words cast. **

"**But horrid to have to share everything they own, have no privacy from thought or deed" Legolas continued lightly. **"**Getting blamed for what the other has done……and being treated by others as if they are one and the same elf and not two"**

"**Then it is the same as being a human boy" Estel stated, suddenly serious again. "It is wonderful to have the elves spoil me, looking after me and helping me when I am scared or lost or lonely" He plucked absentmindedly at a daisy at his knee. "But it can be horrid knowing that I can never be as good as them in everything I do. I cannot talk to trees or shoot arrows like lightening. I can never be an elf" he sighed. **

**Legolas glanced over at the downcast head and raised a hand to stroke the dark locks in a small gesture of comfort. **

"**As it is for me, Estel" he replied, dropping his hand back to the grass. "I have the love and trust of a whole realm of elves. They look up to me as their prince and leader. They respect me as the son of a great and powerful king. All that is wonderful" he sighed "And it is horrid" **

**He closed his eyes against the dark thoughts of grief and fear that threatened to rise up again in his heart. Then he felt a small hand stroke his long hair in much the same manner as he had just done for the child, and the strong emotions that welled up from just that simple gesture threatened to engulf him. He swallowed dryly, struggling to hold back the dam that threatened to burst. He pushed the emotions deep into his gut and sighed, casting off his dark thoughts as if they were a cloak to be tossed aside. He sprang to his feet in one agile leap and bent to help the boy do the same. **

"**Do not worry that you cannot talk to trees, Estel" he told the child with a smile he had conjured up from the deep of his heart. "Neither can your two clots of brothers" **

"**Truly?" Estel grinned. **

"**Truly" came the assurance, and boy and elf retrieved bows and arrows and once more, but with much lighter hearts than before, resumed their archery lessons. **

………………………………

**TBC. **

**Just a few elvish translations for anyone who is new to LOTR fic.**

**pen neth: young one, or little one.**

**Adan: human**


	6. Six

**One friend to Another **

**Chapter 6: Flee**

………………………………

**It was nearing late evening when a tall lithe figure carry a large bundle merged out of the shadows and approached The Last Homely House of Rivendell. Legolas walked carefully, carrying the child tenderly in his arms, the boy's prize bow and elaborate quiver over his back with his own weapons, the child's head resting wearily on the elf's shoulder, his eyes closed in exhaustion. The sun had begun her slow journey below the horizon and dusk was settling over the realm. The dampness of dew hung in the air and clouds gathered, threatening a heavy night of rain. **

"**Ah, hear come the brave warriors!" greeted Elrond from the step in front of his house as the two figures approached. In truth he was glad to see them. He had been starting to worry. His twin sons had returned to the house hours ago, their tutoring duties long since finished, and had reported to their father the goings on at the archery field, of the disappointed fearful boy and the tense Mirkwood prince. **

"**Well met, Legolas" the Elf Lord smiled. "I was going to suggest taking Estel to the dining hall for some food, but I think at the moment what your little charge needs is a good night's sleep" **

**Legolas gently passed the sleeping child over to the other elf, careful not to disturb the boy. "I am afraid we lost track of time, Elrond. My apologies…….I did not mean to keep the boy out so long"**

"**No apology needed Legolas" Elrond assured him, settling the boy against his own shoulder. "You have both missed evening meal, though" **

**The two elves entered the house and were met by a smiling Elrohir. **

"**A comforting sight indeed" he greeted on seeing Estel asleep in his father's arms. "The only time this little one is not making mischief or noise is when he is sound asleep" **

"**Take him to his bed chamber, ion nin" Elrond bade his son, the child once more getting passed from one loving set of arms to another, all without waking. "Leave some Lembas in his room in case he wakes hungry later"**

"**Yes, _Ada_" Elrohir turned in the direction of the stairs with his small burden, leaving Elrond and Legolas in the hall.**

"**And what of you, Legolas?" Elrond asked "I am sure the cook can rustle up something for you to eat before you retire for the night" **

"**That will not be necessary" The blond elf shrugged off his and Estel's weapons, handing the boy's small ones to the Elf Lord to return to their proper place. "I must be returning to Mirkwood in the morning, Elrond. I will turn in for the night and be off as soon as the sun rises" **

**With a quick bow of farewell he turned to follow Elrohir to the stairs before Elrond could reply, and disappeared. **

**Elrond stood stunned in the hall for a moment, caught off guard by the young prince's announcement. It was too soon. Much too soon. He could not allow Legolas to return to his father no better than the day he had arrived. Thranduil would not forgive him. **

**The elf lord handed Estel's ornate weapons to a passing servant and asked him to put them somewhere safe, then he set off up the stairs after Legolas. It was high time for that talk. **

……………………………

**Someone had once more seen fit to light the fire in his room, Legolas noted as he entered. Like every room in the Lord of Imladris' home, the bed chamber was warm and inviting. His newly laundered shirt hung in the huge wardrobe, and candle globes had been lit. The scent of lavender reached his nose and he peeked into the adjoining bath chamber to find a freshly filled steaming tub waiting for him, a neatly folded pile of towels beside it. Flexing an aching back and shoulders, Legolas decided that a bath may not be such a bad idea. Stripping off his tunic and toeing off his boots, Legolas reached up and freed his hair from it's warrior braids. He was just searching in his pack for his hair brush when there came a knock on the door, startling him and making him drop the pack to the floor. **

"**Who is it?" **

"**It is I, Elrond" came the muted reply. "May I come in?" **

**Legolas hesitated to answer, debating whether to send the Elf Lord away and just indulge in his bath. He did not want to appear rude to his host, however, so he bade Elrond to enter. **

**Elrond opened the door and stepped in, closing it quietly behind him. His eyes took in the turned back bed covers, the discarded tunic and boots laying on the floor, the dropped pack. He gave a small smile at the general untidiness of the elf before him. Prince or not, it was good to see that Legolas could be just as untidy as his own sons. In his quick perusal of the room, everything appeared normal. Even the figure before him on brief glance looked relaxed and at home in the large room. But Elrond had millennia of experience in caring for sick, injured or troubled elves. His eyes did not miss the thin body hidden under the loose white shirt, or the tenseness of the shoulders. Tense too was the young Mirkwood elf's countenance, his deceptively young and fair face marred by shadows under his eyes and worry lines on the high noble forehead. **

"**Legolas," Elrond began with a small sigh, sitting down on the huge bad and gesturing for the other elf to follow suit. "Please forgive my intrusion but I must speak with you" **

**Legolas cocked his head in bafflement at Elrond's manner, but did as he was bade. He sat at the top of the bed and turned so that his back was to the headboard, one knee bent up onto the pillows, the ankle under his other thigh. It was a defensive posture, and it did not go unnoticed by Elrond. **

**The Elf Lord did not beat about the bush. **

"**I do not think you should return to your father's realm just yet, _pen neth_" he stated firmly but gently, getting straight to the point. "You are not well. I cannot let you journey across the mountains on your own in such a state. The danger is just too great at this moment and I will not allow it"**

**He saw Legolas open his mouth to protest but he carried on and did not give the young elf the chance to reply just yet.**

"**I know that lately, in defence of your father's kingdom, you have been through much torment, both of the physical and the mental. I cannot in good conscience let you leave here until all that troubles you has been addressed" He paused, then looked up into azure blue eyes. "I forbid you to leave Imladris until I see fit" **

**The Mirkwood elf stared at Elrond in astonishment, his mouth moving as if to speak but no words came out. He could not believe he was hearing this. **

**Elrondglanced down at his own hands on his lap, almost afraid to meet the other's eyes. The silence went on a moment too long, so he looked up and meet those eyes again, and the hurt and anger he saw there cut him to the bone.**

"**I am fine, Elrond" the younger elf spoke eventually, in a voice that was both cold and hard. "I must return to my father. I have much to do…..there are scouting trips to organise, spiders nests to be rooted out, orc bands to be rounded up and driven back. The Shadow does not halt it's advance, my Lord. I have already stayed here for far too long……. I cannot abandon my people" **

**He rose to his feet and paced the sumptuous room. "I cannot afford to lounge here enjoying the peace that is Imladris while dark forces would seek to oust my father and slay every elf in Mirkwood" **

"**Your people need you" the elf lord agreed, rising to stand face to face with the elf prince "……but they need you whole" **

**Elrond took one of Legolas' hands in his own and clasped it firmly.**

"**You suffer, Legolas…..and the more you suffer, the more your people suffer with you. You do not have the strength to return to your realm and do these things you speak off. You are ill and weakened by all you have………."**

"**Weakened?" Legolas cut in, his voice incredulous. Elrond bit off his next words, realising he had just made his first mistake. **

"**Legolas, I am sorry. I do not mean you are weak. I am trying to say…….."**

"**With respect Elrond, I think you have said quite enough," Legolas pulled his hand from the Elf Lord's grasp and strode over to the door, his face white and legs stiff. He grabbed the handle and flung it open. **

"**Please leave, I have preparations to make and sleep to catch up on" **

**The blond elf took a deep breath and spoke again with all the power and authority of the prince he was. **"**I am still leaving in the morning" **

**Elrond grimaced and walked towards the open door, mentally kicking himself for his choice of words. He had not meant to insult the prince, only try to make him see reason and seek peace of mind. He had done this all wrong. He could not believe that he, great Lord and Healer and ancient Warrior, could have made such a grave mistake. **

"**I thank you for your hospitality, Elrond" the Mirkwood elf bowed slightly once Elrond had stepped through the threshold, his voice once more polite. "Mayhap I will see you in the morning before I depart, my lord. Goodnight"**

**Elrond could only stare in consternation at the closed door, before turning sharply on his heel and striding purposefully to his study. He had a lot of thinking to do if he was to stop Legolas leaving in the morning. It was going to be a long night. **

………………………………

**As soon as the hallway was clear another bedroom door opened and a small sleepy face poked out and gazed over at the closed door to the prince's room.**

**Estel had been awakened by the raised voices of his ada and the prince, and he had heard practically everything that had been said. Going back into his room he spotted the Lembas and flask of water on his night stand. He did not eat it now, although he was hungry. Instead he dug out his travel pack from the bottom of his wardrobe and stuffed the waybread and water into it, before climbing back into his warm bed and going back to sleep. **

………………………………

**TBC.**

**Elvish**

**_Pen neth_ young one,**

**_Ada_ father**


	7. Seven

**One Friend To Another**

**Chapter 7: Follow **

………………………………

**It was still dark outside as a sparrow began it's morning song barely the hour before dawn and the heavy rain that had fallen all night was finally beginning to wane. **

**Legolas rose stiffly from his bed and immediately started to dress. He heard not a sound from the rest of the house as he hastily began packing his few belongings into a well-worn pack. He had needed no call to rouse him from slumber this morning, save for the chirp of the lone sparrow, as he had barely slept all night. He had been lying awake as the storm had raged outside, he had watched the flames in the hearth splutter and die and he had listened as the rain finally abated and almost completely eased off to become a few intermittent drops that the chilled breeze carried through the open window and left on the floor of his room. **

**Despite his exhaustion he had found no rest. Every bone in his body ached and his mind had churned with worry for his father and his people. He felt the need to return to them so badly he had not been able to relax and let sleep take him all night, worrying that something terrifying had happened in his absence. Fear gnawed at him that something terrifying had happened in Mirkwood during the four days of travel to and three days stay in Imladris. He felt nauseous as his mind dwelt on dark thoughts of invasion by orcs, destruction by fire and the desolation of his people. **

**He had spent the long night in a waking nightmare of guilt. **

**Estel's eyes flew open and he came immediately awake from the deep sleep that had taken him in what just seemed mere hours ago. Disorientated and groggy he listened for what had woken him and heard the short call of an awakening sparrow on her first hunt for grubs. Just as he was closing his eyes again and settling once more deeply under the warm covers he heard the distinct click of a door closing somewhere out in the hall……and immediately came awake as he remembered his mission and the strange golden haired prince.**

**His packing complete Legolas turned his attention to his weapons, checking that his knives were clean and sharp before adding them to their holsters in his quiver and strapping the whole thing to his back. He slung his bow over his shoulder to join them, and lifted the pack and strapped it to his waist. Pausing only to fill his water flagon from the tapped spring that flowed through the bath chamber, he reached his hand out cautiously to the door handle. He half-expected the door to be locked, if Elrond had kept good on his threat to keep him by force in Imladris. Surprised that the door opened unhindered, he then expected a guard or two posted outside his room to capture him if he should step out of the ornately carved portal. **

**But the corridor was empty, the house in sleepy silence. **

**Dressing hastily Estel pulled on breeches and shirt and tunic and boots, grabbed his already prepared pack and poked his nose out of his door in a miniature parody of the prince just moments before. The candle globes in the hall were still lit, their flickering flames highlighting the tall shadowy figure that lingered for a second then disappeared around the corner to the stairwell. **

**Not a sound or movement did the elf prince detect in the entire building. Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked as quickly and silently through the house, making one detour to the well-stocked kitchens to grab several cakes of Lembas from the dry larder, remembering the location of the elvish waybread from the time he had joined the twins in a hunting trip many years ago. **

**As stealthily as a 5 year old could go, Estel trotted after the prince as fast as his short legs could carry him. His small doeskin boots were as soft and silent as slippers on the tiled floor, his little feet carrying him not much slower than the skulking prince. All Legolas' senses were focused forward on his journey, not behind, so he did not even hear the scurrying figure stub his toe on a door post when he was caught off-guard by the elf's detour into the kitchens. Slipping behind a pillar Estel waited for the elf to re-emerge from the kitchen and resume his exit of the large house. **

**Making his way out the door and towards the stables Legolas was suddenly assaulted by feelings of a different guilt at the way he found himself abandoning the hospitality of Imladris and it's lord. He felt ashamed that this was how he had to leave behind his friends Elrohir and Elladan, with no fond farewell or warrior handshakes and promises to visit again and plans of future hunts. **

**Legolas sighed. How had it come to this? Sneaking off in the dark like a thief or a disgraced trespasser, not knowing when, if ever, he would return. He ached for the hurt it would no doubt cause Elrond and the twins when they discovered the prince was gone. **

**And then he found himself thinking of a certain human boy. Would the child remember the warrior prince if he ever returned? With a stabbing ache in his heart Legolas realised that he would probably be grown up by the time he returned to Imladris and he silently cursed himself for letting Estel into his heart, however begrudgingly. He had tried to hold out against feeling anything other than disdain for the tiny mortal. But the child had won him over and he knew it. The innocence and ignorance of the small boy had opened up something inside of him, found a tiny part of him that remembered how to have fun, and it scared him. **

**He shook his head. He did not need this. **

**Moving on Legolas encountered no one but one guard on patrol of the grounds around the Last Homely House. The guard greeted him warmly on recognition, thinking nothing odd about the prince leaving in the hour before sunrise. **

**Once again the boy was almost caught out as Legolas stopped to exchange greetings with the guard, but on sudden inspiration he took advantage of the preoccupation of the two elven figures as they quietly talked and skipped off to the right and cut through Elrond's beloved gardens instead of heading straight for the stables that he presumed Legolas was heading for. **

**With his horse finally prepared with no tack save a bit-less bridle and his bedroll secured to it's back, Legolas mounted then turned the big bay stallion to gaze longingly on the silhouette of the stately residence of his hosts. He bowed his head once in an unseen gesture of respect and farewell, then spun the horse noiselessly and cantered off alone into the woods that bordered the realm of Imladris and headed for the bridge that would take him out of this realm and on eventually to his own forest of Mirkwood. **

**He did not hear the snort of greeting that one stubby grey pony gave her young human master. He did not see the child leap clumsily onto the stocky equine's hastily prepared saddle. He did not see the pair duck at the last moment and exit the stable at a dead gallop that would give Elrond grey hairs had he known about it. **

**He did not know that he was not alone.**

**………………………………**

**Surprisingly enough, Estel had not as much trouble keeping up with the swift Mirkwood horse. Two things helped him in his trail of the prince. The first one being his pony. Though small she was elven bred and trained and cantered unwavering along the prince's trail with barely a sound of hoof beats, and he himself had been trained to ride since he could walk, first by his human parents, then by his new elven brothers. **

**The second reason was that Legolas had slowed his horse after crossing the ford that marked the borders of Rivendell. The blond prince's urgent need for haste had given way to a grudging awareness of his own state of health after the first couple of hours of fast travel had passed. The bay stallion had stumbled on a rough patch of rocky ground and Legolas had narrowly avoided falling off his horse. His shame at almost being unseated gave way to an awareness of a strange dizziness and he had no choice but to slow the horse to a walk. He still felt stiff and his shoulder and back ached. As he travelled on the pain grew until it invaded every bone in his body. A feeling of uneasiness followed the incident, fearing that maybe Elrond had been right after all and he _was_ ill. **

"**No, I am fine" he whispered tersely to the pivoting ears of the horse. "It is just lack of sleep and food" **

**But as the horse trod steadily on, Legolas began to feel worse. Every part of his body ached, but none more so than the old arrow scar on his chest. It burned as if a hot poker was being held over it, and sweat ran down from his forehead in rivulets as if he had a fever. He couldn't have, he stubbornly told himself again. Elves do not get fevers. But then his vision blurred suddenly, causing the dizziness to turn into full blown vertigo as the ground beneath the horse's feet seems to ebb and flow as he watched. The elf clung to his horse's mane like it was a lifeline trying to stay atop it's back, and he refused to give in to the growing knowledge that he should stop. **

**Not far behind the prince the young human clung skilfully to his own horse as the pony's stride ate up the miles of woodland and scrub, hot on the prince's trail. Estel could no longer remember why he had followed the elf on his undercover departure from Rivendell. He could only remember the feeling of urgency when he had heard the prince and his adopted father arguing the night before. He wanted to know more about this golden haired prince, he felt intrigue and a nagging curiosity whenever he thought of the tall blond elf that had appeared from nowhere, rejecting him at first then seeming to offer the child a beleaguered acceptance. He thought back to the archery lesson the day before and a smile lit up his cherubic face. **

**Estel had feared the elf's gruff manner, the prince had been a strict teacher at the beginning, but then for some reason everything had changed. The small boy could not understand it, but the two had connected. The change came after the strange elf had "talked" to the big oak tree. The strange elf had never truly relaxed, but they still had ended up having fun. The child had tripped over a tree root and fell on his backside with a grunt at one point….and the elf had laughed. For a split second Estel had contemplated crying in embarrassment at his ungainly stumble, but then he had noticed the sound of the elf's laugh. It was like music, and it seemed to the child at the time that the birds and trees around Legolas had joined in with the sound, with merry chirps and rustling of leaves. And Estel could not help but laugh right back. **

**The prince's bay stallion slowed his walk to a hesitant step as he felt his master's wavering posture. Like all elven horses the animal had been bred to defend his master and trained to carry an injured elf. But even the stallion could sense that this elf was not going to be able to stay on his back for very much longer. **

"**No, we must…go on" Legolas tried to nudge the horse onward, but the animal stood squarely on it's four feet and did not budge an inch. **

**The horse whinnied in concern and gave a toss of his great head, trying to implore the elf prince to dismount and rest. But in doing so he unwittingly wrenched his mane from Legolas' grip. With nothing else solid to hold on to, the blond elf wavered and finally slid to the ground. His knees buckled as soon as his feet touched earth but he caught himself in time and clung to the back of the great horse to keep himself upright. **

"**This cannot …be happening" Legolas cursed softly to himself as the horse escorted him to a nearby tree. **

**Once within reach of the tree he let go of the stallion and leaned an arm on the rough bark instead, then fell to his knees at it's base. He could feel all strength leave him bit by bit as the pain and nausea grew. **

**Darkness encroached on the edge of his vision and the last thing Legolas felt was his back impacting with the ground and the last thing he saw was an orc's hideous face leaning over him. His last thought was that he had failed his father. **

………………………………

**TBC.**

**A.N. **Ooh, was that my first ever really evil cliffy? Truly? Oh, good.

_runs_


	8. Eight

One Friend to Another

8: Fallen

………………………………...

The trees flew past and bushes whipped his chubby face as Estel clung skilfully to his little pony. He relished in the feeling of speed and freedom as the landscape seemed to fly under the hoofs of his puffing pony. In truth the animal was going no faster than Legolas' stallion had been at a brisk trot, but in relation to the little boy's size he was going faster than the wind. So it seemed totally unfair to the boy that pony and rider would break through the dense bushes and into a large clearing as the day neared late evening, to find no sign of the elf and his big bay.

Reining in the pony to halt, Estel cocked his head to the left and right to listen and look for any sign of the large horse or royal rider. He sat on the pony and stretched out his senses to the surrounding area as his big elf brothers had taught him., listening and waiting for a sign. His pony dropped his head to graze on the lush green grass that grew thickly in the sun-lit clearing, then suddenly the head flew back up again and the pony whinnied a greeting into the air, only to be answered by a deeper throatier snort from a much larger horse.

Legolas' bay stallion emerged from between the trees on the other side of the clearing with a distressed neigh, it's reins trailing on the ground and the prince's bed roll hanging half off it's back. The great horse snorted again, then wheeled on it's back feet and disappeared again into the undergrowth, the bedroll falling off and hitting the ground with a thump before the animal vanished. Immediately Estel jumped from his own pony's back and pelted after the bay, with a child's typical disregard for danger - and he immediately spotted the limp figure dressed in greens and browns sprawled beneath the spreading boughs of a rowan tree.

With a non distinct cry Estel shot forward and skidded to his knees at the elf's side.

"Leg'lass?" the child called warily into the regal face of the elf , dismayed to see eyes closed and the elf's chest barely moving with shallow breaths.

"Leg'lass!" Estel called again, placed a grubby hand either side of the pale face and peered into the closed eyes with mounting terror.

He repeated the elf's name again and again, hoping, praying for some response from the fallen prince as the sickening feeling of terror grew and spread in his little round tummy. His cries came to no avail.

"Saes….mellon nin……Leg'lass!" he tried again, pleading with the prince, begging for the eyes to open once more and look at him and the elf to tell him everything was going to be alright. But it didn't work. The eyes stayed closed and the elf remained unmoving.

Estel withdrew his hands from the face of chiselled face and sat back on his heels dejectedly. He suddenly had a very strong urge to cry and he had no sooner thought it than a great fat tear rolled down the chubby cheek unhindered.

Then nearby the bay stallion's head shot up and the great horse whinnied in fear and pawed the soft ground. The animal shuffled closer to the child and nudged him with his nose and Estel finally heard what had startled the horse. The voice was indistinct at first, then he heard the words being spoken and the cold, course tone they were spoken in and he held his breath to listen.

"'E was just over 'ere" the voice was saying "I'm telling' ya, he weren't no good. Damned thing were near dead" the voice continued, getting louder. "'E's probably all dead by now"

The child remained frozen in place for several seconds more, then instinct kicked in and he felt the urge to flee. Adrenalin pumped through his body, but the thought of leaving the unconscious elven prince kept him where he was, denying the urge. He just knew the voice belonged to no one that had good in their hearts and would help him or the elf. He knew somehow that whatever being owned such a voice was evil. That meant trouble for him if he stayed…but also trouble for the elf if he left. The boy just did not know what to do.

Then his choice was taken from him as he had lingered just a little too long. From out of the bushes just ahead of him came the ambling and shuffling figures of several creatures in miss-matched armour and rags. They were ill-proportioned and deformed, their faces hideously cruel looking, their skin grey or green or various shades of brown, with sharp faces and red eyes. There were around ten of them, and the one thing that really caught Estel's eye was their pointed ears. Why would something so hideously ugly have the pointed ears of elves?

"Well, looky here" the largest and ugliest creature remarked on spotting the kneeling boy. "Looks like the stinkin' elf has a little friend"

"Aye" another of the creatures replied with a cruel laugh. "Seems that even if the elf is no good for sport, his little friend just might be!"

Other of the creatures joined in with the laugh, delighted that their previously futile hunt for "sport" had finally shown some promise.

"Bring him to me" the first creature ordered, and the rest of the ugly beings surged forward towards the child and the fallen elf.

Estel realised he was in real horrifying danger here. He sprang to his feet and unsheathing his small hunting knife he stood in front of the prone elf.

"Go away!" he shouted, trying to make his voice as strong and as loud as he could. "Leave us alone!"

"Or you will do what, human spawn?" the second creature asked. "Stick us with that little needle of yours?"

The rest of the vile beings laughed again as they moved forward and encircled the tree, Legolas and the boy. The laughing was a horrible scratchy sound that made Estel wince.

"'t aint no bigger than my toe nail!" the orc continued indicating the knife in the boy's wavering hand, enjoying being the centre of attention of his hideous comrades as it too shuffled forward on legs that seemed too short for it's body.

It came to stand just in front of the terrified boy, pulling out it's own sword from it's dented scabbard with a ring of metal that reverberated through the trees.

"Put it away, little human…." the orc ordered in a voice that was suddenly thick with menace "…...or else I will have to 'urt ye"

For all his size the child seriously considered attacking the vile creature, but suddenly he heard a wise voice in his head, one that belonged to Elladan.

"_When outnumbered and with no chance of winning, there is no shame in backing down" _the voice said, in an echo of a time Estel had started a fight with a bunch of unruly elflings who had thought to bully the tiny human last summer. _"Your chance may come later" _

He had come out the worst in that fight, outnumbered and out skilled in hand to hand combat with the agile young elves. His nose had almost been broken that day.

Reluctantly Estel lowered the small knife and the orc gave a crooked gap-toothed grin.

"There's a good boy" it sneered.

Three of the orcs came forward the rest of the way and grabbed the child's arms. His knife was wrenched from his grip and his bow and quiver pulled from their place on his back as his arms were grabbed then pinned behind his back, his wrists tied together roughly with a course length of rope. The child was then dragged, struggling futilely, towards the big orc that seemed to be the leader of the unruly rabble.

"Tie 'im to that tree" the big orc ordered, pointing to a young oak at the left of the clearing. The boy was dragged over and forced to sit at the base of the tree by one orc pinning his shoulders while another tied the rest of the length of rope that held his hands around the narrow trunk.

"What about this 'un, Grknak?" the other orc asked suddenly, indicating Legolas by a sharp kick to the prone elf's ribs. In Estel's own terror the boy had almost forgotten his ailing friend. He tensed with sinking heart and waited with a sickening feeling in his stomach to see what the huge ugly creature would do to his friend.

The big orc Grknak, satisfied that the boy was secure, strode over to his second-in-command and the blond elf on the ground. It hunkered down by Legolas' head and grabbed a handful of the long blond tresses, pulling the elf's head up off the ground, as if to check for reaction. No reaction came from the prince, his head and shoulders coming off the ground as if he were a limp doll. Grknak let go of the hair and Legolas' head fell back to the ground with an audible thump, then the orc put two fingers to the elf's neck to feel for a pulse, all the while peering into the elf's face.

"You were right about it being near dead" Grknak declared. The orc wiped it's hands on his filthy breeches as if touching the elf had soiled them. "Looks like some of our Mirkwood cousins have already had fun with it, it has the smell of Shadow sickness on it"

"It's long passed being any use to us" Grknak stated as he turned his back on the elf and began to walk to where the scared boy sat tied. The orc paused in it's path for a second to turn briefly back to the other, it's decision made.

"Kill it"

………………………………...

TBC.

A. N. In the words of Britney Spears "Oops, I did it again!"

I didn't mean to have another cliffy, honest I didn't. It just came out that way. Sorry! Blame my muse. Yeah, that's it. It's all her fault. J


	9. Nine

**NiRi**, for the sake of your poor eyes I have unbolded this chapter, and I have to agree, it does read better. From now on I will save bold for emphasis. I also made a few changes with Ch8. The **"spider poison" **is now **"Shadow sickness". **When you read this chapter you will see why. I also changed the "broken nose" bit. What a good author I am. pats self on back

See what happens when you lovely readers give a nice review? I listen and act accordingly.** So review, please! Thank you. **

One Friend to Another

9:

………………………………...

"Kill it"

The wracking sobs of a five year old human child immediately followed the gruff order from the large orc named Grknak.

"No! Please!" the child cried desperately. "You cannot kill him. Please. You cannot!"

"And why not, human spawn?" The big orc crouched now in front of the tethered child, leering cruelly into the heartbroken little face.

"Because…he's….." Estel struggled to speak through his sobs, "..he's…."

"'E's what, scum?" Grknak backhanded the child's cheek, the boy's head whipping to the side and connecting with the tree trunk behind him. The boy barely registered the pain, the deep agony and worry in his heart overriding all else.

"Because he's the prince of Mirkwood!" the child finally got out before his voice broke into heaving sobs of terror.

The big orc stood then, one hand thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

"Is 'e now?" Grknak asked himself. The orc whirled round to face where his second-in-command stood with sword raised, poised to send the tip plummeting down into the heart of the elf lying at his feet. "Hold, Urshgk!"

At his commander's order the foul creature re-sheathed his sword with a scowl. He had been looking forward to ending the immortal life of the helpless creature at his feet. The elf owed him some recompense for the sport it had deprived them all of.

Grknak stood still in contemplation, struggling to form a plan in his tiny brain. The plan evaded him, but he decided to wait and see and maybe this elf could prove to be of value after all. Though stupid, the orc was not without ambition. If the elf was who the child said it was, then maybe someone or something would pay handsomely to have it in his possession, half dead or not. Frustrated that he could think of nothing else, Grknak resorted to yelling out orders to his hideous subordinates.

"Haul that elf carcass over 'ere and tie it up beside the brat!" he called finally. "Be quick about it!

Several orcs rushed forward to comply, picking Legolas up roughly and half dragging, half carrying the elf to dump him roughly next to the still sobbing Estel. They fetched a length of rope and rolled the unconscious Immortal on to his side, tying his hands behind his back then securing his ankles together. One orc pulled out a chipped and rusty knife and advanced again on the elf. Estel saw this and gasped. Were they still going to hurt his friend? The orc in question heard the gasp from the child and grinned evilly at him, then simply used the knife to cut the straps that held Legolas' quiver and knives to his back. The harness was cut free and thrown to the side, to be joined by the great Mirkwood bow, it's golden string severed by the same knife.

The orc ambled off to assist it's comrades in setting up a hasty temporary camp under Grknak's orders, and Estel calmed his sobbing breaths with some effort to study the fair creature slumped beside him.

The elf lay unmoving in the uncomfortable position the orcs had left him in, on his left side facing the boy with his arms tied behind his back awkwardly, stones and broken branches no doubt digging into his face and side where he lay on the forest floor. His eyes were still closed, breathing shallow and erratic with his face pale and dirt-streaked. If it wasn't for the small movements of his chest, Estel would swear the prince was already dead. He could see now that the elf was in a bad way, obviously deathly ill. Estel tried to remember what the big orc had said.

Shadow sickness.

He did not know what that meant, except to realise that Legolas needed a healer, preferably Lord Elrond. And the sooner the better. The prince's life was saved for now from the orcs. But he did not know how long that would last, or if this sickness would kill the blond elf long before the orcs decided to.

………………………………...

The Last Homely House of Rivendell was in utter chaos.

Doors banged, elves shouted, and horses neighed in agitation outside in the courtyard.

Inside in his study Elrond was getting one of his headaches. The kind that did not go away easily, the kind brought on by stress, guilt, worry…….and a deep seated fear.

Elladan was just handing him one of the Lord's own pain relieving teas when the door to the study flew open and Glorfindel barged in, robes flapping and face flushed from his own stress and worry.

"Elrond, the last patrol has just come back" he announced breathlessly. "They have found no sign of Legolas or Estel"

"But?" Elrohir, seeing his father had not raised his head from his hands and was in no way up to dragging information from the blond general, had decided to do it for him. And he just knew that there was a "but" in Glorfindel's next sentence.

Glorfindel glanced at the younger twin. "But they did find orc sign"

Elrond groaned from behind his hands, his eyes closing in futility. Things just always, _always_ had to get worse before they got better.

"Surely if that hare-brained prince is returning to Mirkwood he would have taken the shortest route, the direct path through the woods and then on over the mountain pass?" Elladan countered. "Are you telling me that you could find no trial of an elf or his horse _or_ a clumsy 5 year old human on that path? None at all?"

"None" the ancient elf confirmed.

"Then he didn't take the direct route" Elrond stated simply, his headache finally easing enough so that he could raise his head and see the three other anxious faces in the room.

"Ada?" Elrohir queried gently, his own worry growing at the sight of the pale, ill-looking countenance of his father. "Are you alright?"

"No, my son. I am not alright" Elrond all but groaned. "And neither is Legolas. That young elf was probably so ill he would barely know _what _direction he was travelling in"

Elrond rose from his seat, lifting a sheaf of parchments from his desk in front of him and paced the room.

"This is a letter from Mithrandir" he stated, lifting the papers for all in the room to see. "It arrived by messenger from Mirkwood just before lunch this morning, while we and practically the whole of Imladris were out scouring the valley for Estel. I only got it an hour ago"

"It seems the wizard had gone to Mirkwood from here to offer his counsel to Thranduil, and maybe find out more of what just might be troubling Legolas" Elrond explained, still pacing the length of the room and back again.

"That cunning wizard found out that our young prince was seriously wounded on a patrol almost six months ago. The patrol were clearing a nest of spiders when they were attacked by orcs. Legolas took an arrow to the chest…..a poisoned arrow." He paused to let the implications of that sink in to his audience. "It seems the orcs of the Necromancer are now working in tandem with all the foul creatures of that dark wood. The Mirkwood healers battled to save him for days, and eventually he seemed to come round and recover enough to go back out on patrol with his warriors"

Again Elrond paused, and leafed through the parchments in his hand to find the relevant page.

"It was around that time that Legolas began to change. He became morose, anxious. Obsessed with strategies and battles and defence of his realm. Seldom resting, barely eating, driven only by the fight against the Shadow that seeks to ensnare Mirkwood from all sides" Elrond sighed. "His friends could barely recognise him as the prince that they all knew and loved. He drove them all away with his anger and obsession" Elrond rubbed his eyes tiredly. "For months Legolas has been eating, sleeping and breathing nothing but his own single-handed fight against the Shadow"

Elladan was the first to see where this was heading, as the most experienced and skilled healer in Imladris aside from his father.

"The poison, Ada. What antidote did the healers use for the poison?" he asked.

"That is just it, my son. They do not know." Elrond looked at his son. "They treated him with all the antidotes that they knew and he seemed to recover though they could not tell which one it was that worked, if any"

Elrohir stood up now, catching on to what his father and brother were talking about.

"None of them did" he stated, suddenly wide-eyed with fear. "None of the antidotes worked!"

"Exactly" The Lord of Imladris sank dejected back into his chair behind his desk. He passed a hand over his forehead in deep thought. "It seems that the Shadow Legolas has been sensing all around him, the Shadow that he has been fighting all this time….."

"It is not all around him" Elladan finished the thought for him.

Elrohir caught on now too. "It's inside him"

Their father nodded slowly and noticed Glorfindel standing with his mouth gaping in shock.

"So you see, my friend" Elrond said to him "Legolas could be travelling across Mordor his mind itself so shadowed by the sickness he would not even notice"

"With Estel at his heels" Elrohir suddenly felt very ill, worried sick about not only his dear friend the prince but the child that had followed him. "He would not be able to defend himself or Estel, Ada!"

"But why?" Glorfindel asked. "Why would the evil of Mordor inflict such a slow acting torture on the prince? If this is the work of the Necromancer, why not just kill him outright?"

"Because the more the prince suffers, the more his father suffers" his Lord replied. "And the weaker Mirkwood will become"

"King Thranduil will fade, if Legolas dies" the older twin stated needlessly.

"And if Thranduil fades, Mirkwood will fall" Elrohir added.

"And if Mirkwood falls, Rivendell falls" It was Glorfindel that voiced the cold fear now seeping into the hearts of all of them. "The Shadow will encroach into Imladris, then Lothlorien……."

"Legolas is the key" Elrohir realised, his voice rising in shock. "All this time that pompous, arrogant, hare-brained twit of an elfling prince is the key to the survival through this age of all of the Firstborn realms?"

Elrond looked at the youngest twin and nodded.

"And that key to the survival of all of the Firstborn is wandering sick or dying Elbereth knows where" he didn't want to voice the dark thought that he knew they were all thinking anyway. But he did. "And with him in his care is the child that is to be the hope of all Mankind"

"I will order the guard to widen the search" Glorfindel declared, turning on his heels to approach the study door. "We will find them Elrond"

"I know, mellon nin" the Lord of Imladris returned heavily. "I just hope we find them in time"

………………………………...

TBC.

A. N. See, no cliffy. Was that a cliffy? Does it count? Ah, well. Leggy is safe for the moment. Kind of. Or maybe not. Ummm….bye.


	10. Ten

A.N. First of all a BIG thank you to **NiRi **for betaing this for me, she did a wonderful job reminding me that commas are good and run-on sentences are very, very bad.

I am glad to see a few new readers among the reviewers, but many more people are reading and not reviewing. Think of it as the tiny toll you pay for reading, a little fee. And it doesn't hurt, not one bit.

A quick warning about this chapter. As Elrond said in the last chapter, things always have to get worse before they get better. So it gets a good bit worse for Legolas in this one. Nothing graphic, but our favourite elfling does get a bit roughed up. And little Estel cries a bit. You have been warned.

I cannot believe I am on to Chapter 10. Whoo-Hoo.

………………………………...

One Friend to Another

10:

………………………………...

Pain. Nausea. Fear. Darkness.

They registered in Legolas' foggy brain one by one, then they were joined by a deep, bone chilling cold. As he came awake each of his senses came aware, and he assessed himself as best he could with a sluggish mind. He could hear noises now - the snuffling of a distressed horse, garbled voices from a distance, and the nearby sniffling of someone crying.

Legolas ached from head to boots, his limbs felt heavy and stiff. The nausea ebbed and flowed in his stomach, but he did not feel as if he was going to be sick. His tongue was practically stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he was terribly thirsty. That was the least of his worries though. A pain in his chest stabbed through him with every breath, starting at the site of his old wound and emanating up his shoulder and down his left arm. The wound throbbed mercilessly, constantly,and he gritted his teeth against it, feeling what little strength he had dissipate with every beat of his heart. He rode the pain out and pushed it down, willing it to ease so that he may move and possibly find out where on the whole of Arda he was. How had he gotten here? And just who was that he could hear crying?

Finally,deciding that the best action for the moment would be to open his eyes and see for himself, he did so. The first thing he saw was that it was dusk, the second was the floor of a strange forestjust in front of his face. He realised that lying sprawled on his face in the dirt was not a good place to be. He moved to get up…..only to gasp as that old pain came back from the place he had hidden it andbrought its friends once more, Cold and Nausea. So he stopped trying to rise and lay still for a moment.

He could not move his hands from wherever they were behind him, and something tight was biting into the flesh of his wrists. Testing his legs, he found that he could not move them either. With a grunt, he struggled to wriggle off his stomach and onto his side at least, so that he could maybe get a better look at his surroundings. At his pained grunt of effort he managed, but the small noise and movement also alerted the crying being beside him. The sniffing stopped before a small quiet voice spoke up in a shaky whisper, a word that sounded like "Leg'lass

The crying being obviously knew him. But did he know them? He couldn't recall the face that went with that voice, so he moved his head as best he could and gasped again, this time in shock. Just in front of him, obviously trussed up and as bound as he, was the young boy from Imladris. The child had a tree at his back, his clothes were filthy and torn, and his small cherubic face was tear stained and distressed. Estel, his foggy mind finally informed him. The child's name was Estel, and his heart went out to him.

"Estel!" Legolas exclaimed….or tried to. The name came out as a husky squeak that shamed him. He cleared his throat noisily, and the child's eyes opened wide at the sound.

"Shhh!" the little boy pleaded. "They will hear you!"

That did not sound good. "Who, penneth?" Legolas asked, his voice now slightly clearer.

"The smelly men, over there" the child whispered, indicating somewhere behind Legolas with a nod of his head.

The elf craned his neck to take a quick glance behind him, and his heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him. Orcs. A band of about ten orcs encircled a small fire something disgusting was roasting over on a crude spit. Now that he could see themhe could hear the abomination to Arda that was Black Speech as the filthy creatures garbled and grunted among themselves.

Why had he not realized that he and the child were at the mercy of orcs? He should have known as soon as it dawned on him that he was tied, that he was in the possession of someone or something. Elbereth knows he should have smelled them!

Legolas closed his eyes again, a sudden wave of despair flooding though his very being. What was wrong with him?

How had he, the last prince of Mirkwood and experienced warrior elf, gotten himself captured by orcs? No, not just himself, he corrected. He had managed to drag with him the young human adopted by Lord Elrond. How had the child gotten here? Was Elrond somewhere near?

"Estel" Legolas whispered as quietly as he could, opening his eyes again. "What happened, child? How are you here?"

"The smelly men grabbed me when you fell asleep under the tree," the child answered matter-of-factly, and the elf groaned, full of shame at passing out in one of the most dangerous parts of all of Arda. "They were going to kill you, the child continued in the same matter-of-fact manner. "But I stopped them."

Legolas' eyes grew wide imagining the small human babe, attacking ten orcs with his tiny bow and arrows and defending the unconscious elf.

"How, penneth?" He asked the boy. "How did you stop them?"

"I told them who you were"

Legolas once more stifled a groan and closed his eyes in despair, then quickly opened them again to halt the vision of the orcs dragging him and the child to Dol Gudur as a rich prize for the Necromancer.

"But how did you get here with me, Estel?" He asked the boy. "Why are you not at home in Imladris?"

"I followed you," the child admitted sheepishly, glancing down at his feet. "I did not want you to leave."

Legolas studied the little face in front of him, trying to read the emotions there. He himself did not know how to feel at this news. He had opened his mouth to speak again when he saw Estel's eyes go wide at something behind him. In that instant something hard connected sharply with his kidneys, driving the air from his lungs and sending tendrils of pain shooting up his back. Legolas had a sneaking suspicion the "something hard" had been a sharp, armour clad foot.

"Shut up, elf!" came the unmistakable voice of an orc, and he was kicked hard again.

Unable to hold back the cry of pain this time, the elf saw concern and worry cross the face of the child in front of him, and the boy opened his mouth as if to speak to the orc. The elf quickly shook his head at the child, warning him to stay silent, trying to convey to the boy through his eyes that he was alright. The boy looked unconvinced but shut his mouth anyway.

Legolas felt a great clawed hand grab his shoulder and pull him over onto his back, his hands painfully trapped underneath him. The orc that leaned over him was bigger than any he had seen or killed before. The creature was almost his height and broad like a human, but the face was a twisted parody of nothing human or elven. It reminded Legolas of the face of a deformed pig, the skin grey and mottled. The stench of the thing made him have to swallow a gag reflex as it leaned closer in to his face.

"So the elf filth is awake, finally," it stated stupidly. "Grknak will be pleased"

Turning from the elf, Urshgk called to his commander and waved him over with a clawed hand.

If Legolas thought the previous orc was large, this new one was even larger and uglier. Grknak peered down at him with a leer, obviously delighted that the elf was conscious. Now he could get some answers to many questions he had for the elf scum. And if he couldn't get those answers, at least his little band of followers could finally have their "sport".

………………………………...

"_Are ye' the prince of Mirkwood, scum?" _came a question again.

Again the pause for the answerbut when once more the answer did not come, a clawed fist was hammered into Legolas' mid-section and pain spread through him. Unable to double over to protect himself from the many repeated blows, Legolas' vision was blurring and his breath was coming in short sharp gasps. His whole body was on fire and his ribs screamed in agony. He knew several of them were badly bruised or cracked.

"_Is your father the worthless king of Mirkwood?" _came another question and another punishing beating when he didn't answer.

The Immortal was tied in a standing position to a sturdy tree, his ankles still bound but his hands now pulled behind him and secured to the tree on either side and around the trunk rather than behind his back. He just about had his feet flat on the ground, a great thick rope wound around his shoulders to further secure him to the tree. In truth the ropes were hardly needed. Legolas had felt as weak as a new born kitten even before the "questioning" had begun. Nothing but the ropes kept him upright.

"_Where are the patrols stationed in that cursed woods of yours?" _

The elf concentrated on breathing. It was all he could do as the questioning and beatings continued. All strength had fled long ago from his body. The pain flowed and pulsed and screamed through every part of him, and he prayed for unconsciousness or death to end it.

He felt so cold underneath it all. Strangely enough the cold was the strongest of all. He felt like he had been submerged in a great fast flowing river in the dead of a Mirkwood winter, so cold it was. And it was getting so hard to breathe.

"_What is the password into the Mirkwood halls?"_

Another question, another pause, another fist connected and he felt blood well up at the back of his throat. He did not have the energy or air to cough it up and spit it out. He just let it well up and trickle past his lips and down his chin. Darkness swam at the edge of his vision, and he knew the signs. Unconsciousness was blissfully, mercifully on it's way, only one more hit should do it, and then it would be over, for a while at least.

But the next question did not come, and he raised his head with difficulty, almost disappointed that he had been denied his impending release.

To his total dismay, Legolas saw that the orcs were now untying the small child. He hoped and prayed that they would not hurt the tiny human. But it was in vain.

The big commanding orc, Grknak, grabbed him by the chin and loomed into his vision, unheeding of the elf's blood flowing over it's hand.

"So, elf!" the foul smelling creature spat. "You will not confirm who ye' are or give me information on Mirkwood. So let's see how you respond to the child getting the pain instead of you"

The orc gestured to the two creatures now holding the little boy tightly in their grip. They dragged him closer to stand in front of the tree Legolas was tied to. Grknak moved to stand at the side, well within reach of both the elf and the little human. Estel struggled futilely against his captors, tears of terror streaming down his small desolate face.

The child looked up and locked eyes with the elf, and Legolas had trouble meeting the innocent gaze. He knew the little boy was in this predicament because of him. Because he had been ill and had not heard the child following him from Imladris. He had not been strong enough to fight the illness and stay conscious when the orcs had found him. He had not been there for the child to defend him against the vile creatures and prevent them both getting captured. Legolas could not fathom what was wrong with him, why an old wound pained him terribly and orcs and human boys could sneak up on him unawares. Why the bone-chilling cold permeated every part of his weak body. He had never before felt so weak and vulnerable, so unelven in his long life before.

Why hadn't he listened and talked to Elrond when he had the chance? he asked himself. Now an innocent was going to suffer and die in front of him, and he was helpless to prevent it, helpless to stop himself witnessing it.

Legolas could not betray his king and people by answering the hideous orc's questions. His king, he thought again to himself. He had already betrayed his king, his father by getting himself into this nightmare situation. Why had he let pride and royal stubbornness stop him from seeking the help he knew he needed? He should be standing now at his father's side every inch the prince he was, not hobbled to a tree like some worthless animal.

Legolas looked away from the child's face and dropped his gaze to the ground. The darkness which had been lingering just at the edge of his vision for a very long time - months in fact- grew in intensity and threatened to swamp everything he was or ever could be. Inside himself, among the crippling pain and icy coldness, the elf felt something break. His spirit, his strength and his heart shattered into tiny pieces and scattered to the four winds.

Legolas sagged against the ropes that held him, his limbs numb and heavy as rock. His lungs struggled to draw in air and the pain in his chest throbbed and grew stronger than ever before. He thought he was going to be sick with the pain.

"_Are ye' the prince of Mirkwood, Elf!" _came that voice again, somewhere from a great distance.

With great difficulty, Legolas used the very last of his strength and will to raise his head again and open eyes he did not know had been closed. There was the child standing bravely in front of him, held by the two orcs, with Grknak holding a large handful of the child's hair, fist poised to pummel the little boy.

Estel stood unwavering and brave and did not struggle or cry, even though he knew what was about to happen. He wanted to cry, he wanted desperately to struggle and scream and get away, but he knew he couldn't. Legolas needed him to stay strong.

He could see the elf was dying. He knew the signs, had seen it in his own father three years ago when he was only two. Then he had watched those smelly beings like these ones run Arathorn through with a scimitar when the little family had almost reached the safety of Rivendell. He had watched, terrified and helpless, as the light went out in his father's eyes, as it was fading now in the beautiful azure eyes of the elf before him.

But that was then, before he had been trained by the elves how to be brave and hide your true feelings in the face of an enemy. How to find strength you thought you didn't have. Estel reached down deep inside and found that inner strength. But he didn't keep it for himself. He called the elf's name and met his eyes and he gave all he had into the connection between them.

"Leg'lass"

Legolas heard his name being called in that childish way of the boy he knew as Estel. It seemed to come from many miles away. He focused on the piercing grey eyes of the child, just as the Shadow finally took him. In those eyes he saw something that entered his heart and burrowed deep inside of him, as his consciousness went and he slumped down finally into the welcoming darkness. Like a small torch in a black cave, he took the little light with him and kept it safe in his heart.

The tiny spark of hope.

………………………………...

TBC.

Sorry, me again. I want to apologise to anyone who got double alerts for this chapter, my fault. A big "oops" on my part.


	11. Eleven

A.N.: And here we are again, finally. Sorry for the really long wait this time, folks. Don't you just hate it when an author leaves a cliffy then vanishes for weeks on end? LOL. I know I do, so profound apologies. But life happens.

Thanks again to NiRi for betaing. Though somehow she didn't get the second half of this chapter, so the second bit should be a nice surprise. Or not, if you happen to be an elf called Legolas.

Thank you toofor all the lovely reviews, you guys feed the plot bunny. So she thanks you too.

Lena

……………………..

One Friend to Another

11:

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Estel's eyes flew wide with terror as he watched Legolas's head fall forward and his body fall against the ropes holding him. The long blond hair hung down, obscuring the elf's face. The child ducked his head, trying to see if the elf's eyes were open, pulling against the hold the vile orcs had on his arms so he could see better.

"Leg'lass?" he croaked pleadingly, hoping for some kind of response.

The orcs pulled the child roughly upright again, and Estel could only watch helplessly as Grknak stepped angrily over to the elf and savagely grabbed the blond locks. With a jerk the huge orc raised Legolas' head then practically flung the head loose again with a curse as it took in the slack features and closed eyes.

"Cursed elf!" the orc spat and gestured to two of it's cronies "Cut it loose and leave it ".

"But what about us?" Urshgk spoke up as he stepped to the tree with his rusty knife to severe the ropes "won't it do fer eatin'?"

"Naw, the ugly thing has been poisoned or something''" came the answer. "Leave it for the wolves to gnaw on"

Urshgk severed the ropes around Legolas' shoulders. The orc watched gleefully as the elf fell to the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut while the vile leader turned it's attention to the little human.

"As for you….." Grknak began, grabbing the front of Estel's tunic in a fist and drawing back the other hand to strike the child "…….I can just finish with you what I started with that damn elf!"

"**HOLD**!" came a great booming voice "**Do not touch the human**!"

The voice seemed to echo all around the clearing and the very air seemed to vibrate with the power in those few words. The orcs glanced fearfully around them, trying to trace the direction it came from. Several reached for weapons, feebly preparing to put up a fight but unsure where to aim for.

Grknak had indeed held in what he had been about to do, so great was the shock at the sudden disembodied order. The orc leader stood as if frozen, one hand in the air still poised to strike the little boy. Was this his Master? The orc briefly wondered.

Suddenly something sailed through the air and landed among the thickest throng of orcs. There was a great dense puff of smoke when the strange object struck the ground. A minute later the breeze cleared the smoke away…to reveal all six orcs lying dead on the hard ground. The rest of the lesser orcs did then what came naturally to them. They fled in abject terror, leaving only Grknak standing, still frozen but with still a grip on the child's clothing.

Grknak was scared, but he did not show it and he still had an advantage over the mystery assailant. He had the child. Grabbing a stronger grip of the cowering boy. Turning with the child in front of him to use as a shield he addressed the owner of the voice, at the same time producing a long knife. He held it to Estel's throat, ignoring the terrified tears on the boy's face.

"I have the boy!" the orc challenged. "Show yourself if you want him back"

"If you insist" The voice came from behind the tree just next to Grknak, at the same time as a great gnarled staff whipped out and caught the vile creature hard on the side of the head. Grknak fell down to the ground stone dead, his slack grasp releasing Estel as he fell. The child crumpled to the ground in shock, just as a cloaked figure kneeled in front of him. Two strong arms tenderly embraced the child, pressing him against a grey clad chest.

"Are you injured, Estel?" asked a kindly voice.

Estel raised his head in shock and looked into two kind grey eyes set in an old yet ageless face.

"Gandalf?" he asked, his voice unbelieving. "Oh, Gandalf!" and he threw himself into the comforting embrace, great sobs wracking his tiny body. The wizard held the shaking boy for a moment, letting the tears soak his cloak.

"Estel, come child" Gandalf gently pried the sobbing boy away from him and Estel sniffed, gamely trying to get his emotions under control. "Are you hurt?" the great grey wizard inquired again.

Estel shook his head. Then his eyes flew open in a sudden, powerful memory. "Leg'lass, Gandalf. Leg'lass is hurt!"

Gandalf immediately turned his attention to the heap of limbs and blond tresses on the ground that was the Mirkwood prince. Quickly he cut the tight bonds from the prince's wrists and ankles, then gently he straightened the elf onto his back. His fingers probed the slender neck searching for a pulse, all the while his lips moving in a silent prayer that Estel could not make out. He probed several times, fingers searching and hoping for the vital sign and then there…..there it was. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer to whatever of the Valar was keeping the prince alive.

The prince lived, but barely. His breathing was shallow and his heart beat in a faint irregular pattern. Estel watched wide-eyed and fearful as the wizard opened the elf's tunic and felt his ribs for injury, wincing in sympathy when he revealed the bruised and battered torso. His skilled fingers found several cracked ribs, but nothing major. At least not as far as the physical went.

Gandalf gently placed one hand on the prince's forehead, the other over the scarred chest and the heart beating feebly. He closed his eyes in concentration. Estel watched as the wizard's lips moved again silently as if in prayer and his face impassive. Then the wizard's forehead crinkled in a deep frown and the eyes flew open as if in shock, at the same time withdrawing his hands from the prince as if he had been burned.

"Estel, I need you do something for me" the grey pilgrim addressed the child. "Can you go to my horse - it is just over there" The wizard pointed to the nearby copse of trees. "There is a flask in my pack. Bring it to me, quickly!"

Estel stumbled to his feet and ran to the horse as fast as his tired little feet could carry him. He did not know why but he felt that time was important here and now.

Gandalf smoothed a hand over the face of the elf in front of him, noting the clammy skin and sickly pallor. Legolas' lips were parted slightly as his failing body struggled to continue drawing in air. The wizard drew a thumb over one chiselled cheekbone with the gentleness of a father, and whispered encouragingly to the dying prince.

"Hold on, Legolas. You cannot leave us, young one" the old wizard quietly pleaded "Just hold on".

………………………………...

Dusk had long given way to the darkest of night by the time Gandalf had done all he could for the ailing Mirkwood elf. He had managed to make Legolas drink small quantities of miruvor and water, and had made the prince as comfortable as he could. He needed Elrond, the wizard told himself for the hundredth time. Only Elrond or Galadriel had the power to defeat the great invading shadow that had taken the elf. They could enter his mind and give him the strength to defeat the blackness encroaching Legolas' very soul, the wizard hoped. He had tried and failed to do just that, but his power was just not strong enough.

"Maybe together" he whispered to himself. "Elrond and I…..Galadriel. Yes, if she could come, or we bring him to her. No….not enough time to journey to Lorien" Gandalf took another long puff on his pipe and expelled the smoke, his brow crinkled in thought. He glanced across the fire he had built to the prone figure lying still under the blankets and furs he had brought with him. He sighed and spoke to the night once more, "Not enough time"

Huddled under the same furs that covered Legolas lay Estel. The child had watched the old wizard tend to the prince in exhausted fascination. He had been too tired and too near deep shock himself to even wonder how the ancient Maier came to be here. It was all he could do to stay awake and help as best he could. He had numbly ate the rabbit Gandalf had cooked for him over the roaring camp fire, fetched and carried water from the nearby stream then closed his eyes and fell into deep slumber. Gandalf had lifted the child and placed him next to Legolas. The child had automatically snuggled in under the furs and curled up against the shuddering body of his elven friend, all without waking.

A faint moan came from the bundle under the blankets and Gandalf glanced up from the fire, ready to jump to his feet and sooth Legolas as he tossed and turned as if in great pain. He had started to rise from the log he sat on when strangely the elf suddenly settled again, the moaning stopped and he lay still once more. Curious and concerned Gandalf strode over to look down on the two figures and saw that Estel had taken an arm out from under the covers and placed it unconsciously over Legolas' hand where it lay atop the covers. The small brown hand lay in great contrast to the long strong fingers of the archer. Muddy brown on alabaster white. Flaxen gold hair mingled with dark tangled brown. Despite the tenseness of the situation Gandalf could not help a small smile.

"A strange pair, you two make" he mused with a long suck on his pipe. "Light and earth, wind and fire"

………………………………...

_Legolas hung on the edge of a great precipice. Nothing came between him and a great fall into the darkness below. The dense blackness stretched miles below him and he sensed it creeping higher, towards his toes. _

_His fingers clung to the tiny ledge above his head and his arms ached. Blood ran freely from the fingertips, making it harder and harder to grip the icy cold rock. His feet struggled to find purchase on the cliff face but found none and he knew it would not be long before he fell. _

_Noises rose up to reach his ears from the dark. Words and voices he did not understand, though he knew the language. The Black Speech of Sauron. It rose in waves and assaulted his every sense, making his head and ears hurt and red spots dance before his eyes. _

_The blackness crept higher, he felt a deep cold emanating from it as it crawled over his feet and started to swallow his legs. It was like he stood in an icy lake, the cold drawing all feeling from him as it crept higher and higher. _

_Legolas gasped and grit his teeth, gripped the small ledge tighter as his fingers threaten to let go. His arms shook now with the effort of clinging to the ledge. Clenching his eyes shut so that he would not look down he concentrated on breathing. Sucking in a lungful of air he noticed the smell. Rotting flesh, fetid breath, death. Rising higher and higher, it had reached his chest now and it was so hard to breathe. It was so cold! _

_Then something warm landed on his right hand. It was the warmth he noticed first, such a contrast to the stinking, vibrating cold. He gasped in shock and forced his eyes to open and look up. He would not look down. Must not look down. _

_The Shadow had reached his shoulders now, he could feel it. _

_There perched on his own hand was another, this one with small __chubby fingers. He could see a wrist above the hand, a child's arm. It gave a feeble tug on his hand, the tiny fingers tried to wrap around his own wrist now and pulled. Legolas felt himself rise, his body was pulled a few precious inches up the face of the black cliff, then more. _

_The Shadow was now back below his feet. _

_One hand clinging to a new crack in the rock Legolas raised the other and gripped the little hand for dear life. He would not let go. And just as strongly the hand gripped him back. _

………………………………

TBC


	12. Twelve

Here ya go, people. Once more thanks go to NiRi for putting the commas in and much more, as my punctuation tends to suck. Not much action, but loads of angst and the timely arrival of a certain elf lord.

Lena

One friend to Another

12:

………………………………...

The night passed uneventfully. Gandalf had kept watch all night over the small makeshift camp, taking only small naps himself. During those times that he had needed his own rest, the camp had been guarded by the two larger horses, Legolas' bay stallion and the large black war horse that he himself had been riding. Both horses came from the sufficiently stocked stables of King Thranduil, and being elven horses they had understood the importance of what was required of them. Once Gandalf had communicated what he needed, the animals had trotted to either side of the camp. The bay stood to the left side of the camp, ears and eyes focused out into the dense woods. The big black did the same on the other side. Neither horse so much as nibbled grass or shifted their feet during their vigilance, but stood like beautifully carved statues. Only the occasional blink of an eye or swipe of a tail at a mosquito had given away any signs of life.

Now as the sun rose, the horses had been relieved of their duty and they had wandered off to join Estel's chubby pony in grazing nearby. The wizard set about once more building up a small fire, more for cooking and water heating than warmth as the morning air was humid and promised to be a quite a mild day for early Autumn.

The old wizard noted to himself that very little noise disturbed the air. Even the birds seemed subdued, not breaking into early morning song as normal but instead flitting from tree to tree on an almost silent hunt for insects. There was a heaviness to the air, more than the humidity, yet it did not speak of danger. It spoke of sadness, an almost palpable dread. Knowing the elf prince's connection to nature Gandalf was not surprised. He glanced over to where Legolas and his little companion lay under the tree. The elf had not made one move or sound since late last night, and neither had the young human. Not even a nightmare had disturbed the child, so deep was his exhausted sleep. Nature insured the child slept long and deep, and when he awoke his mind would have sorted out and rationalised his terrifying ordeal. His innocence would protect him, his strength would endure.

But it was not so for the long limbed elf lying beside him. Legolas' face was drawn and pale, his forehead creased as if in pain. Gandalf had had to check the elf constantly during the night, just to assure himself the Immortal still drew air, so shallow was his breathing. What nightmare of Shadow tortured that troubled mind, the wizard wondered. Would he have the strength to endure?

Deciding that it was time to wake and feed the child, and get some more Miruvor into the prince, Gandalf rose to approach the hump of blankets. But just as he bent to shake the boy's arm and rouse him the two elvish horses nearby broke the silence with a cacophony of whinnies and were joined by the higher pitched neigh of the pony. The three beasts came trotting into the clearing and both elvish horses snorted with distress at the wizard. Understanding the warning the Maia dashed back to the fire and grabbed up his staff and sword. Taking up a defensive stance in front of the two beings on the ground he prepared to face whatever danger approached. The bay stallion and the big black stood to either side of him, tossing their heads in agitation, ready too, to defend the sick elf and sleeping child.

"Mae govannen, Mithrandir," came a sudden melodious voice as a small host of elves on horseback emerged from the dense copse of trees ahead. At the head of the column rode the Peredhil twins, behind them at least twelve warriors in the Rivendell colours of blue and black, all armed.

"Elladan, Elrohir," Gandalf greeted. He sheathed his sword and with a swift pat to the necks of the two horses to assure them these were friends, he approached the elven party. "Please tell me, my friends, have you your father with you?"

The twins swiftly dismounted. While Elrohir turned to give the horses to one of his warriors and oversee the breaking of formation and setting up of camp, Elladan approached the nervous wizard.

"Ada is on his way, Mithrandir," the dark haired elf assured him. He craned his neck to see behind Gandalf, hopeful he would spot his tiny human brother. "You found them," Elladan breathed, relief evident in his voice as he spotted the missing boy and elf prince. He made his way to the sleeping figures, the wizard quietly following. Bending his knees, the elf hunkered down beside Estel and touched the child lightly on the arm. "Estel, wake."

Immediately Estel's eyes opened, then opened wider in surprise when he registered who it was before him. Wordlessly the child extricated himself from his cocoon of blankets and furs, then threw himself into the arms of his big brother. Estel's body shook with sobs, but they were sobs of relief as Elladan wrapped his arms around the shaking body.

"Shush, penneth. Shhhh……I have you," the elf crooned, standing up. He was joined then by Elrohir and the boy threw himself into his other brother's arms in exactly the same manner as he had Elladan. Elrohir gave his twin a meaningful glance over the boy's unruly mop of hair and shifted his eyes to the remaining body-shaped pile of covers on the ground. Then Elrohir carried the boy over to the fire and sat with him on Gandalf's log, comforting him. Lifting a plate of bread and fruit that the wizard had prepared earlier for the child, he set about convincing the boy to eat, but his eyes rarely left the direction of his brother and the wizard.

Elladan had hunkered down once more and bent over the motionless form of Legolas. He reached out one hand and placed it gently on the forehead of the prince, sweeping some strands of golden hair aside as he stroked the pale face. Taking in the sickly pallor and bruises he glanced up at the grey wizard. "How is he?"

"He needs your father," Gandalf stated matter-of-factly. "The Shadow sickness has taken hold. I do not know how much longer he can fight it." He paused with a sigh. "When I arrived both of them were in the hands of orcs, Elladan"

With a shocked gasp, Elladan's eyes flew to where the child sat on Elrohir's knee, scrutinising him, looking for signs of hurt.

"The boy is fine" Gandalf reached down, placed a reassuring hand on the Noldor elf's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "Legolas, however….." He trailed off, letting the bruises speak for themselves.

The wizard pulled a flask of Miruvor from the folds of his cloak and gestured for Elladan to raise the Mirkwood elf so he could get some of it down his throat. Elladan complied, sitting on the ground and gently raising Legolas, then slipping in behind him to let the unconscious prince lean back on his chest. He tipped the head back, and Gandalf poured a minute amount into the other elf's mouth. Expertly Elladan massaged Legolas' throat until he swallowed reflexively. They repeated the procedure until the wizard was satisfied that Legolas had swallowed enough of the strengthening cordial.

"Mithrandir," Elladan queried as they worked. "How came you to be here?"

"As you no doubt know I went to Mirkwood to see Thranduil and perhaps find out more of what could be ailing our young prince," Gandalf replied. When Elladan nodded, he continued. "When I realised it was Shadow sickness, I left immediately after sending the message to your father. I had a feeling our dear prince would need my assistance….what I did not know was just how timely that assistance would turn out to be."

He proceeded to tell Elladan of the orc band, their treatment of Legolas, and how the attack was just about to turn on Estel when he thwarted the orcs with his poisonous smoke spell and handy staff. Glancing over, he noticed that the Rivendell elves had discovered the body of the vile orc leader and were dragging it away for burning.

"Now you may tell me, young lord," the wizard addressed Elladan as the two of them settled the Mirkwood prince once more under the warmth of the blankets. "Why are these two out in the middle of these woods alone, instead of safe in Imladris, and why is this one…" he indicated the lifeless elf, "…not ensconced in a bedchamber under the expert care of your father and his healers?"

"Have you ever tried to "ensconce" Legolas in anything, Mithrandir?" Elladan replied with a wry smile that belied the worry in his heart.

Gandalf groaned with understanding. "Let me guess," he grunted. "The foolish child rebelled."

"Ai, he did," the Noldor elf confirmed. "He took off yesterday morning, to return to his realm, and we think Estel followed him"

"Hmmm….rather typical of both, wouldn't you say?" The wizard smiled fondly. Then the smile faded. "He was probably already under the influence of the Shadow by then. His actions would not have been entirely all his own doing."

Serious again too, Elladan nodded. "What of the Mirkwood king, Mithrandir?" He asked suddenly. "Surely he is worried for his son and should be here with him?" The elf frowned. "If it was 'Ro or myself or Estel that suffered thus as Legolas does, Ada would want to be with us."

The twin tutted his tongue in disgust.

"Do not judge Thranduil, Elladan," Gandalf chastised. "His lot is not as your father's. He cannot just up and leave an already troubled realm for the sake of one. While Legolas suffers, the king is all that Mirkwood has. He has advisors, yes. But Amandil, the only elf he could trust to run Mirkwood efficiently and fairly in the absence of the king, has gone to Dale to negotiate this year's wine trade. When Amandil returns, then he may journey here to Imladris to see his son. But not until then can he abandon his people. Not even for the sake of a son."

"Forgive me," Elladan bowed his head in shame, running a tender hand once more over the pale cheek of his young friend, and Gandalf did not know if the Noldor addressed Legolas or himself.

To both their surprises, Legolas at that moment started to stir. His head moved to one side, away from Elladan's fingers as a groan of pain burst from his lips, but his eyes did not open. Opening his mouth Legolas seemed to struggle for air and his back arched up off the ground, hands clenching his covers.

"Legolas, peace!" Elladan pleaded, trying in vain to sooth his struggling friend, but the prince just clenched his teeth and gasped in air, writhing on the ground as great spasms gripped his frail body.

A deep agonised groan burst from tortured lungs as Gandalf and the Noldorion struggled to hold him still. Elladan crooned to the prince, words in elvish, his own heart pounding in panic at his friend's obvious pain. The blankets were kicked aside as the blond elf's struggles began to diminish, his breaths growing shallower while his mouth opened wider in a vain attempt to draw vital oxygen to paralysed lungs.

Legolas' left hand suddenly flew to grasp a fistful of Gandalf's grey cloak as his eyes flew open and locked with the steely grey of the Maia. The normally cerulean orbs were mostly all black, his pupils dilated and swimming with a dark fog. Then just as suddenly, the blond elf fell back to the ground again and lay still, eyes still open.

"He's not breathing!" Elladan yelled, throwing the blankets further out of his way. Elladan hurriedly undid the clasps of Legolas' tunic, pressing two fingers to the young prince's throat. "Gandalf, do something!"

So preoccupied was Elladan, he did not hear the approach of another until he was roughly pushed aside from the prince and suddenly his father was there. Elrond put his mouth over that of the prince and breathed into him three times, then pumped both hands five times on the prince's bruised rib cage. "Elladan, breathe for him!"

Elrond's son copied his father's actions and breathed air into Legolas' mouth. One, two, three breaths. Elrond again pumped on the unmoving chest. One, two, three, four, five. The two elves worked furiously to keep the young prince alive, oblivious to the crowd of elves that had gathered around them. The elf contingent had been added to by Glorfindel and four warriors that had accompanied him and Elrond to the wooded location.

Safe and secure in the strong arms of Elrohir, Estel watched with mounting fear as his ada and elven brother fought what seemed to be a loosing battle. He did not notice that he was holding his own breath, heart pounding in his tiny chest as he watched. Silent tears of hope crept their way down his cheeks.

"He breathes!" Elladan announced suddenly to the immense relief of their audience. "He is breathing on his own, Ada."

Elrond checked for himself, then sat back on his heels to catch his own breath as the prone figure before him did indeed begin to once more take in shallow breaths. The Rivendell lord checked Legolas' heartbeat, then satisfied it was strong, covered him once again in the warm blankets and furs before rising to his feet. Elladan was joined on the ground beside the prince by his twin and Estel, the little boy immediately squirming out of his brother's arms to get closer to Legolas.

"Glorfindel, please see to the making of a litter to carry Prince Legolas," the elf lord ordered. "Elladan, do not leave the prince's side, ion nin. If he so much as twitches, call me."

Elladan nodded as Elrond gestured for Gandalf to follow him. The two beings moved a little way away from the group of elves, as Elrond's blond general began ordering and organising the warrior party to construct the litter.

"Your timing is impeccable as always, mellon nin," the wizard teased lightly as the two halted on the edge of the clearing.

"As is yours, Mithrandir," Elrond returned with a sad smile. "We must take him to Imladris," the elf lord continued, his eyes not leaving the bundle of coverings where Legolas lay. "I cannot banish the Shadow from his fea here in the open woods. He needs to be surrounded by the light and love of his kind."

"He is a wood elf, Elrond," Gandalf stated, glancing at the tall trees and colourful bushes that circled the clearing. "Here he _is _surrounded by the love of his kind."

"That may be true," Elrond nodded once, then turned his attention to a darkening sky, "But a storm approaches. It will not be so pleasant a location once that storm breaks ere nightfall. And I will need the help of every healer and herb and potion that I can get my hands on if I am to help him defeat this."

"And magic?" Gandalf enquired with a quirk of one eyebrow. Elrond unconsciously fingered the hidden ring on his right hand.

"If it comes to that," the elf replied, "then yes. This one will not fade, Mithrandir. Not if I can help it."

………………………………...

In little less than an hour, a litter was constructed by the expert Rivendell elves, and the Mirkwood prince secured behind two of the largest horses. Estel had refused to leave the side of the prince, not even to ride with one of his brothers, so he too was tucked into the blankets beside his friend.

As soon as the party of elves and wizard set out, the motion of the litter sent the child into a deep sleep. The twins rode behind the litter, keeping a sharp eye on Legolas to make sure he kept breathing, and on Estel to ensure he did not roll over and fall off the wooden structure in his slumber.

The day was just approaching late evening, when the party arrived in the haven of Imladris. Legolas was immediately taken to the healing chambers, and the still exhausted Estel carried to his own bedroom to be watched over by Elrohir.

Elladan joined his Ada in the healing rooms, to assist in anyway he could with the prince. Then he, Elrond, Gandalf and the Rivendell healers began the long fight to banish the Shadow from the soul of one who should be filled with light.

………………………………...

TBC.


	13. Thirteen

This is…gasp, shock,…a longer chapter. I think I am getting the hang of this writing lark. Once again NiRi betaed. Thank you so much, honey. You're the best. Hugs NiRi. Many thanks to all reviewers. You are the jam on the sandwich.

One friend to Another

13:

………………………………...

_Legolas was drowning in a sea of black. _

_It was not water, but it had the freezing qualities of a lake in winter. As it invaded his lungs and drove his air out, the icy needles screamed through his very being. The waves washed over him, pushed him this way and that, heavier than water, colder than ice, thicker than smoke, clinging to his skin like oil. His mind screamed in panic. He had nothing solid to hold on to. Nothing under him, nothing around him. Just inky black. _

_Time lost all meaning. His mind was sluggish and would not grasp any coherent thought, but still he struggled. Was this all he had ever known? Did he even exist outside this deep penetrating black? What was his name? Why could he not breathe? _

_His subconscious picked up on voices again. From a great distance as if carried on the wind he heard them. The voices were melodious and fair….but the words they spoke hurt his ears. The tone sought to comfort him, but the language struck fear in his heart. He couldn't understand what was being said. Were these the ones who had put him here? He tried to open his mouth to call out to the voices, but his throat would make no sound. He could not breathe in, no sound would come out. His lungs screamed in pain for relief from the great pressure that bore down on him, but none came. _

_One of the voices seemed to single itself out from the many. One deep, resonant tenor that ebbed and flowed gently, became louder. He knew that voice. This was a friend. This voice he should be able to trust, but he still could not understand what it said. The words were too harsh, they grated in his head like nails on glass. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get away, but the voice followed him, edged closer, reached out to him, and he opened his mouth again and silently screamed. _

………………………………...

"Legolas," Elrond addressed the writhing figure on the bed as gently, but as firmly as he could. "Legolas. Penneth. Awaken, child. Open your eyes. Come back to us."

The Lord of Rivendell sat on a hard wooden chair at the side of the bed, his eyes closed. One hand over the eyes of the floundering prince, the other over Legolas' heart. His voice droned on constantly, keeping up a steady melody of comfort, reassurance and healing. He spoke first in Sindarin, then switched to Quenya, but Legolas did not respond to either language. He tried Silvan, and the Mirkwood elf actually seemed to flinch at the sound of the beautiful flowing words Elrond spoke to him.

Elrond sighed and removed his hands from their positions on Legolas, to rest his own head wearily upon them and rub his tired eyes. He had been here since they had all returned to Imladris, almost three full days. Not leaving the healing rooms except to attend to his own needs, and that had been only for very brief minutes, then it was straight back again to the side of the ailing elf.

The healing rooms were filled with the calming scent of athelas mixed with other herbs and medicines. A large fire roared in the corner of the room, various pots and pans of water and other concoctions resting on the hearth, and candle globes flickered on all the walls as it neared the darkness of late evening.

"How is he?"

Elrond jumped at the voice, even though he recognised the speaker before the second word had been spoken. With shame, he admitted to himself that he had actually dropped off to sleep for a few seconds and the speaker had roused him. He replied without turning round. "He is just the same, Mithrandir."

Gandalf came all the way into the room from the doorway and took the seat on the opposite side of the bed from his old friend. He studied the frail looking elf in the bed.

Legolas had fallen still once more. His clothes had been stripped save for a pair of sleeping leggings, blankets pulled up to a barely moving chest, and the ugly scar on his left pectoral exposed. The bruises from the beating by the orcs also still marred the lithe body, a sure sign that his elven healing was seriously compromised by the Shadow he was under. A sheen of sweat glistened on Legolas' face, yet he had no fever. In fact, his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. If one ignored such glaring signs of suffering, the elf almost appeared to be in a normal sleep. But his forehead was creased by pain, and soft whimpers occasionally escaped the thin, tightly drawn lips, as if in the throws of an horrendous nightmare that he could not wake up from. Which was so close to the truth.

"Yet he still fights, Elrond," the wizard stated, hoping to lift the obviously flagging spirit of the elf lord.

"Aye, but he also fights any attempt of help," the dark haired elf replied. "I cannot reach him, his mind is shut to me." Elrond continued, and Gandalf heard the strong elf's tone begin to break with despair. "Soon he will lose the struggle, and his body will begin to shut down. How he has lasted this long I do not know." Elrond's face once more fell forward into his hands. The wizard crossed the room again and placed a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"What about Estel?" Gandalf asked suddenly, and Elrond lifted his head to frown at the wizard, startled by the sudden change in subject.

"He is fine. 'Dan and 'Ro are keeping him occupied with his normal routine. He appears to be none the worse for his adventure, though he does continually ask after Legolas," the elf Lord told him.

"That is not what I meant, though I am glad he is alright."

Elrond's frown grew deeper. "Then what did you mean?" He sighed in exasperation. He was not in the mood for the ancient Maia's riddles.

"Maybe the child can help," was all the wizard replied.

Elrond studied the wizard's face for some clue as to what he was talking about. Surely he couldn't mean the child's destiny…… Could he?

"The hands of a king……" murmured Gandalf.

"…..are the hands of a healer," Elrond finished for him, springing to his feet in agitation. "The boy is barely five years old, he is far from king yet! What are you thinking, Gandalf?" Elrond's voice rose in anger. "I cannot use the child in such a way. What power can he have at his age, anyway? He is too young!"

"Peace, Elrond," the grey wizard implored. "All I meant is that it cannot hurt to try."

"And how do you suggest I explain to the child that he is needed to help our woodland friend?" Elrond's voice rose again in pitch, but the wizard was not moved in the slightest, which only made Elrond angrier. "And what if it doesn't work,……..how can I place that responsibility on him?"

Elrond was pacing the room now and Gandalf had calmly sat in his vacant chair, watching him. "Do I simply tell him he is not just any human orphan that I took in out of pity and is in fact destined to be king of all of Gondor? And oh, by the way Estel, you have healing powers that just might save the fragile life of Legolas?"

"Legolas has already responded to him," Gandalf stated in that infuriating matter-of-fact way that made Elrond freeze in his tracks.

"What do you mean?" The elf asked, one eyebrow springing to his hairline to join his deepening frown. "When? Where?"

"In the woods, when I first found them," Gandalf replied. "Legolas was unconscious, but in great pain. Estel was sleeping beside him. The child put a hand on his arm, and the young prince immediately calmed." The wizard stood and stepped to stand before the distressed elf. "The pain just drained from his face as soon as the child touched him."

"It means nothing," the stubborn Lord declared with a shake of his head. He could not allow this. He could not sacrifice the innocence of one to save another, not even if that other were Legolas, an elf he held dear in his heart.

"What is the harm in trying?" Gandalf moved around the elder elf and once more took his own seat. He looked down at the face of the elf in the bed and could not suppress his own fearful sigh. "You know this young one is the key to the defence of all the elvendoms of Middle Earth from the darkness that would threaten all of us." Reaching out a gnarled hand, he stroked the fair face of the Mirkwood prince. "We cannot lose him, Elrond. You said so yourself. And if you want to speak of destiny, know this my friend. The destiny of this one is tied to that of the boy."

Elrond's head shot up at that last enigmatic statement . Mithrandir and his riddles. He knew better than to ask clarification of that strange announcement. The wizard would only add more riddles.

"Your healing powers are great and many, mellon nin," the wizard continued. "You can stitch the largest of wounds, banish the most stubborn and deadly of poisons and mend broken bones that would cripple a being, man or elf. This…" he gestured with one hand the heart rending figure on the bed, "…is beyond you."

The Lord of Imladris sank heavily onto the edge of the bed and placed one hand on the fair face of the prince, a thumb tenderly stroking one sharp cheekbone. "I am sorry, little green leaf. I am so sorry," he whispered barely audibly, and tears sprang unbidden to his bright eyes. Then Elrond turned to the patiently waiting Maia. "You win, old friend. I will coach Estel in the _Asëa Aranion, _and with the help of the twins we will try this."

………………………………...

Estel played idly in his bedroom just after supper time. He was in his night clothes and in his bed, waiting patiently for his Ada to come and kiss him goodnight. He amused himself with a little wooden horse that galloped across the great hills and plains that his legs created on the cover of his bedspread, chased by an imaginary horde of those foul smelly creatures that his big brothers had told him were called orcs. Horrible name for horrible creatures, he thought. It suited them just fine. He hated orcs. They had scared him, and they had hurt his friend, the prince. He hoped he never saw an orc again for as long as he lived.

Glorfi had told him that the horrid things would never hurt him or Legolas or anyone, while they remained safe in Rivendell, and he believed Glorfi. Glorfi never lied. Well, except for that time he had said he was going to "tan the hide of that cursed demon called Elrohir" for putting the red rosehip dye in his shampoo. He didn't think that Glorfi had done that, though he couldn't be sure, as he wasn't sure just how anyone could tan anyone's hide.

Over the past couple of days, 'Ro and 'Dan had both since told him stories of how they had fought the orcs on many occasions, without details, and had come off the victors. They were not afraid of orcs, they would protect him always, and he had nothing to fear while they were about.

The carved wooden horse galloped across one particularly large hill created by his knees and skidded to a stop behind it. Then the horse's imaginary rider, a valiant elf prince called Legolas, sprang from his steed and fired arrow after arrow at the imaginary orcs and killed them all stone dead.

A slight tap on the door, followed by the entrance of his Ada into his room ended his imaginary adventures and the horse fell idle onto the cover.

Elrond greeted the child with a fond smile and warm hug, then sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you ready for some sleep, ion nin?" The elf lord asked. Estel opened his mouth to deny it, but was betrayed by a huge yawn instead. Elrond could not suppress a laugh. "I take that as a yes," he chuckled.

Estel grinned sheepishly and snuggled further under his blankets, first retrieving his horse to lay it on his pillow beside his head. Elrond recognised the carving as done by Elladan's hand shortly after the child had been accepted into their household.

"Ah, I see you still have Rochtewerin," he commented, giving the carving the name that an unimaginative and non-horse loving Elrohir and christened the wooden toy. Estel had loved the sound of the elven name and kept it, despite it's unflattering quality.

"It keeps me safe, like you and Glorfi and Ro and Dan," the boy replied in the matter-of-fact manner he seemed to be picking up from Gandalf lately. "He kills the orcs."

Elrond kept his face schooled and did not betray the pull on his heart that such words caused. Already the boy's innocence was bleeding away from him in the harsh times as these were becoming. A week ago the child did not know what orcs were.

"Who, penneth?" The elf asked gently "Rochtewerin kills the orcs?"

Estel rolled his eyes "No Ada!" He answered in his best 'You are **_so_** silly' voice. "Legolas rides Rochtewerin, and _he_ kills the orcs."

"Ah, I see," was all the elf could manage, for fear his voice would again betray the ache that the reminder of the dying elf caused. Estel, though, had seen the shadow cross his father's face, and he suddenly felt sad, too.

"When will he be better, Ada?" The child asked. "Can I see him soon and start my archery lessons again? I miss Leg'lass. I want him to teach me to kill orcs."

Elrond found himself unable to meet the child's crystal clear gaze and instead studied the intricately embroidered pattern on his quilt.

"Legolas is very ill, Estel. You know this, don't you?" He asked carefully. At the boy's sad little nod of his head, he continued. "To help him get better, tomorrow I want you to do something for me, for Legolas."

"Anything, Ada," Estel was quick to reassure him. This sounded important.

"I need you to sing a special song to Legolas, like a lullaby, Estel," his ada explained. "It is a special lullaby and you use a very special plant called Athelas. Only this lullaby isn't to make Legolas sleep, like the songs 'Dan and 'Ro sing for you at bedtime."

Estel nodded again, though he was puzzled, and he could not help feeling excited at what he sensed was a very important job for his Ada and the strange elf prince.

"This song is to help Legolas wake up, Estel." Elrond met his young son's eyes, and he put as much importance as he could into his gaze. He was pleased to see understanding and eagerness in the bright grey eyes of the boy.

Deciding he had said enough, and leaving the details for tomorrow, Elrond leaned forward and kissed the boy's tousled curls, before enveloping the child in a close, but tender hug.

"Goodnight, my sweet child." The elf lord gestured for Estel to snuggle completely under the blankets, then he tucked him in and tenderly touched the boy's cheek. "Sweet dreams."

With another kiss to the forehead, Elrond gave the boy a gentle smile. He exited the room and left the Estel to dreams of special wake-up lullabies and long limbed elf princes that galloped across hilly lands and slayed nasty orcs with a great bow decorated with twisting vines and green leaves.

………………………………...

TBC.

_Asëa Aranion - _the leaf of the king i.e. athelas. Also the name of the poem recited by the healer in the book ROTK, derived from the chant in Quenya believed to release the healing powers of the plant. More on that next chapter.

_Rochtewerin - Sindar, _literally "wooden horse"


	14. Author's Note

-1June 2006

Author's note: I will be moving house and therefore taking a break from writing until the new broadband is all set up again. Please bear with me and I hope to see you all when I get back.

Lena XXX


	15. Fourteen

_Warning: Tissue alert. _

_A.N. Thanks are due once again to NiRi. I tell you now, readers and authors. If you want a beta, you will probably find no better one than NiRi. She can find typos and missing punctuation like a bloodhound searching for a smelly rag. LenaL._

One Friend to Another

14.

………………………………...

It turned out to be a very long night in Rivendell, at least for the Peredhil family, the Imladris healers and Gandalf. Twice Legolas had stopped breathing. Twice with the help of the healers, the wizard and his two sons, Elrond had brought the woodland being back to some semblance of life. Both incidents had happened when the elf lord had left the prince in the care of the healers while he took brief rest in the next room. Now the exhausted elf was terrified of leaving the side of Legolas' bed. He knew it was only coincidence, yet he could not help but blame himself for the two close calls, and he was seriously beginning to doubt that the once fair and light hearted prince of Mirkwood would last for very much longer. The tired lord was convinced that all that was keeping Legolas on Arda was his own will to live.

Elrond had earlier dictated an urgent message addressed to Thranduil, detailing his son's condition and steady deterioration to Erestor, his secretary and advisor. To ensure the missive's safe delivery andits intended recipient's speedy return journey to Imladris, Elrond had called on the help of a great lord and old friend in a rare plea for assistance. The request for help was attached to the leg of Elrond's prized hawk, and the bird instructed by Gandalf to take it to the lord of all birds and creatures of the air - Gwaihir, the Great Eagle himself.

The Eagle Lord landed in Imladris at first light of the new day, where he was greeted and thanked for his prompt arrival by Glorfindel. He had no sooner given the mighty bird the important missive, when swiftly did the huge creature take to the air and head for the Misty Mountains in a flurry of wings and feathers. With a great keening cry, Gwahir disappeared into the horizon. The Balrog Slayer watched him go, praying that the letter would be delivered in time, and that by the time the elf king landed in Imladris, it would not be too late.

………………………………...

Breakfast was once more a sombre affair, despite everyone's best efforts to keep things as normal as possible for the sake of the confused little human boy in their midst. The twins did their best to keep the meal light and cheerful, but attempted conversations dissolved into awkward silences, questions were answered with the briefest of statements and barely anyone ate. Even the servants and the various dignitaries and guests that usually resided in Imladris at this time of year tip-toed and shuffled around the Peredhil twins, Glorfindel and Erestor. They did not all know why such a dark cloud hovered over the usually bright and cheerful elven sanctuary, but the ones that did know, respected that now was not the time to worry Elrond for help with failed crops or family feuds or orc raiding parties. They left Imladris for their own villages and cities, to hopefully settle the troubles themselves or return later for that promised help. The guests and dignitaries that did not know or understand, gave up on asking Erestor when they could meet with the elf lord, when was he going to send his war parties/wine treaties/supplies or whatever and headed home in a huff. Erestor saw them off with as much politeness as he could muster, then he headed off himself to seek out Elrond in the healing wing, to give him the mornings report.

Elladan and Elrohir took the full responsibility of Estel's lessons for the day, after the tense breakfast. They, with the help of Glorfindel, had the important job of teaching a five year old of the certain properties of a long-used medicinal plant named King's Foot. The boy skipped innocently after them to the school room, totally unaware of the momentous task ahead of him.

And so it was, to a quiet and almost abandoned looking Imladris, that the great Eagle, Gwaihir, approached in the late afternoon, gliding into the deep valley at the foot of the Misty Mountains with an anxious elf king clinging to his back. With a cry to announce his arrival, the huge winged being glided towards the large lawn in front of the Last Homely House.

In the healing wing, on his now-usual seat at the foot of Legolas' bed, Elrond's head snapped up, from the reams of notes and journals he was studying, at the clear and unmistakable cry of the Great Eagle. Hesitating only to instruct his head healer on the close observation of his patient and order that he be called urgently at the slightest sign of any change, the elf lord virtually flew from the room. He darted through his halls and out into the forecourt, to skid to a halt as Gwaihir's clawed feet touched down on the lush grass. The great eagle had barely folded his mighty wings, when his blond haired and leaf-crowned passenger leapt gracefully from his back and strode purposefully towards Elrond with the briefest touch of thanks on Gwaihir's neck as he passed.

"Mae govannan, Hir Elrond," Thranduil bowed his head and swept his right arm from his heart out to Elrond in the gesture of respect and greeting, his face impassive to any observer.

Elrond returned the gesture, then the two stood and studied each other in a brief, awkward silence. Elrond noted the emotionless mask upon the face of his old friend, and knew it to be just that….a mask. The cerulean eyes, that were the exact copy of his dying son, were in turmoil. A storm raged beneath the swirling blue in a barely controlled panic of emotions. Elrond cast aside any need for formality and stepping forward he threw his arms around his friend.

The Mirkwood king leaned into the embrace and clutched tightly to the burgundy robes of the elf lord, like they were a last vestige of all his control.

Elrond felt the graceful form in his arms shudder and then the storm broke. The great ancient king became merely a worried father, and the tears fell freely. His breath hitched in great sobs as Thranduil poured out days of worry and fear into the velvet robed shoulder of his friend.

"Where is he, Elrond?" the broken king pleaded. "Where is my son?"

………………………………...

Gwaihir watched the touching exchange quietly and patiently, moving away slightly to busy himself in the preening of his ruffled flight feathers when the ancient elf king broke down, so he could give the two elves some privacy. Eventually Elrond met the eyes of the Eagle over the still shuddering shoulder of Thranduil, and Gwaihir read there an apology for keeping him waiting. The Mirkwood king finally stepped out of his friend's embrace and stood with his back to both of them, struggling to once more control his warring emotions. He composed himself again into the embodiment of a cold emotionless king that those who didn't know him believed him to be. Elrond gave him one compassionate squeeze of his shoulder then approached Gwaihir.

The Eagle towered over the tall elf, so he lowered his head in a gentle bow and kept it there so the two could speak.

"Mae govannan, Hir Gwaihir" Elrond intoned solemly "I cannot thank you enough, mellon nin, for the service you have provided us with. But speed was of the essence and I knew of no one else who could ensure the safe delivery of the Mirkwood king. I could not risk the time it would take nor the dangers it would invite to have the king journey here by horse over the mountains"

"If speed be of such import, Elrond, then do not tarry here with me" the great being returned quietly. "Your thanks is not needed. The task outweighs any gratitude" Gwaihir glanced over to Thranduil, then back at Elrond. "Take him to his son. And maybe, if the Valar wish it, return to Arda the shining light that is the little Greenleaf. That is all the thanks I need" He stretched out his wings and prepared to fly back to his lair and his people. "Namarie, Elrond. And if need be my services are required to carry _two_ wood elves back to Mirkwood, you know where and how to find me." Gwaihir took to the skies with a whoosh of air that bent the grass and left any near-by flowers bobbing. The two elves felt the departure but did not stay to see it. As the great bird became a tiny dot in the sky over the mountains, they were well on their way into the Last Homely House and it's healing rooms.

Along the way Elrond told the worried father all that had transpired since Legolas' arrival in Rivendell. Thranduil's composure came close to breaking again at the details of the orc attack, but Elrond assured him that the attack was not as bad as it could have been. Purposely he omitted any mention of the little human child. The time for that would come later.

They soon came upon the large ornate doors that opened into the vast healing wing of Elrond's great house. Thranduil lifted a hand to push the doors open and enter but Elrond stayed him with a hand on his arm.

"Prepare yourself, melon nin" The elf lord entreated.

Thranduil nodded and took a deep breath, but it came out as a forlorn sigh. He pushed the doors open and was met with the clean crisp smell of disinfectant, but foremost of all was the unmistakeable aroma of athelas. Elrond took the lead and brought him to the one occupied bed at the end of the long white sun-filled room. Nodding to the healers to leave, Elrond stepped aside and looked at his friend.

Thranduil did not notice the healers courteous bows to him as they stepped past the king and left the room. He could no longer smell the athelas nor hear the birds in the trees that stood proudly just outside the ornate window near the bed in front of him. All he saw was the prone figure in the bed, all he felt was the great pain that invaded his heart until it felt like it would break. No, he wasn't prepared for this. He could never be.

Legolas lay as he had done the past few days and nights. He was on his back on the bed, the blankets tucked in around his waist, his long corn-silk hair arrayed neatly on the pillow around his head. His eyes were closed and circled with dark rings, his breathing shallow and laboured. Thranduil drew in another deep breath and held it unconsciously until his lungs ached then slowly he let it out. His next breath came as a great shuddering sob. He could stand it no longer and took the two long strides that carried him to the side of the bed. Ignoring the chair there he dropped to his knees on the floor and grasped the pale hand that lay impassive on the blankets, as he leaned down until he was forehead to forehead with the cold clammy skin of his son.

Thranduil did not notice a certain elf lord exit the room with tears coursing silently down his face.

sniff TBC.


	16. Fifteen

_Sorry once more about the delay and again I thank all of you for your inspiring and encouraging reviews. This chapter was written with the help of a new muse, Fred the Spider. Fred is on loan from NiRi and is a close personal friend of her lovely Leggs. He is not as big as Leggs, but he is just as passionate about reviews. hint hint He does not need to eat reviews to live...he eats lurkers. So unless you want to be lunch for a large black eight-legged muse, please review. _

_Beta-ed by **NiRi**, without whom this would never have gotten written anytime this month. At least not in a form that would have made any kind of sense. Big hugs all round for NiRi _

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. I hope you don't either. If you do, why are you wasting your time reading this? _

One Friend to Another

Chapter 15:

………………………………...

It was late evening in the elven sanctuary of Rivendell. The sun had already begun her slow descent across the sky to dip behind the forests of Rhovanion. Again the elven sanctuary was encased in a rare shroud of quite and peace. No foreign delegates crowding the Hall of Fire, no strange humans or elves packing the Healing Rooms in need of patching up or as reinforcements from orc or warg attack. There was however, still much to do. Servants readied bed chambers and prepared enough food to last the night. Healers scrounged the near-by forests for herbs.

One small human sat cross legged in his bed chamber before a roaring fire, his lips moving in a silent chant as he stared unseeing into the flickering flames. The child could not fully understand the strange feeling in his tummy. He just knew that tonight he was to do something very important, something that his new princely friend depended upon greatly and he had to get it right. The twins had instilled in him the importance of reciting the Athelas rhyme to perfection, and he repeated it over and over again to himself in a silent whisper. His identical twin "brothers" lounged on the couch behind him.

The three were waiting patiently for the call to the healing rooms from their Ada. Estel would soon be called upon to summon whatever latent power he held that could help Legolas.

Elrohir sat reading a large book pilfered from the vast library of Avareth, Elrond's head healer and second in command when it came to curing poisons or high fevers…..or Shadow sickness. The ancient elleth did not begrudge helping the twins in researching ways to help the fair Mirkwood prince, but she did begrudge entrusting the likes of Elrohir to her precious stock of healing volumes, simply because anything he borrowed was never returned.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Avareth herself appeared in the room, humbly bowing to the twins before solemnly announcing, "My Lord Elrond bids you all to join him in the Healing Rooms."

At her words, she quietly left, closing the door behind her.

The dark haired twins turned and looked at each other, the same fearful look in both pairs of eyes. Elrohir felt his stomach clench, and he knew his brother felt the same. Avareth had never bowed to them before. She had been healing and chastising them since they were elflings, spoiling them one moment and cuffing their ears the next. She had never treated them as lords, and they did not expect it from her. They suspected that she did so now for several reasons, not the least being the tense atmosphere that permeated the entire house since the degeneration of Legolas, and the arrival of his father, the king of Mirkwood.

The fact that she was too distracted to even notice Elrohir had her most precious book spoke volumes. Things in the healing rooms were dire.

Elladan noticed Estel's eyes on him and read there the fear, anticipation and worry that they all felt. He prayed to the Valar that whatever happened tonight would not steal away the innocence of one so young. Holding out his arms to the child, he was rewarded with the boy jumping up from the floor and flinging himself into the comforting embrace. Estel clung tightly to Elladan and nuzzled into the elf's neck, while Elrohir reached over and gently stroked the boy's back in soothing circles.

The boy breathed the fresh lavender scent of his big brother's blue velvet tunic and told himself he would not cry, he must not cry. Inside his tummy there were butterflies, and those butterflies were doing so many loops and turns that he felt sick. Estel swallowed dryly and clenched his eyes shut tight. He did not really understand this song he had to sing for his new friend Legolas, but he told his Adar and the twins that he did. He didn't want them to be disappointed in him.

Elladan finally broke the tense silence as he rose to his feet, the boy still in his arms. "Come, little one. It is time to go sing that special song of yours to a certain silly wood elf." Then all three headed out of the door.

Upon their arrival into the healing rooms, Elladan was pleased to be greeted by Estel's nanny. She tenderly took the child from him and carried him to an empty bed. There she had laid out some of his favourite toys and games, to occupy and distract him from the screened off bed at the far side of the long room, as those gathered made ready. She caught Elrohir's eye and motioned for the two elves to go to the other bed.

Stepping around the screen, the twins found Elrond, Thranduil, Gandalf and Avareth. Thranduil sat on a chair near the head of the bed, his son's pliant hand held in his own. His eyes fixed on the pale face of his son, he did not look up to greet the newcomers. Elrond stood in whispered conference with the wizard and Avareth. He stepped over to his sons as soon as he noticed them, and greeted them in turn with a brief, heartfelt hug, then directed them back around the other side of the screen to talk.

"Is Estel sufficiently prepared?" he asked in a subdued whisper.

"As well as he can be for his age, Ada," Elladan told him. "We told him that Legolas is stuck in a deep sleep that he cannot wake from without Estel's help, and the song will hopefully reach him in his sleep and wake him from a nightmare." The elder twin sighed. "But we had to also tell him that the song might not work and that Legolas might choose to journey to Mando's Halls instead of coming back to us. He cried then, for a while, but he is being very brave now, Ada. He wants to do this."

Elrond nodded in approval with a fond glance at the boy across the long room. "He is brave indeed."

"Ada, what about Thranduil?" Elrohir asked "Does he know?"

Elrond nodded slowly, "He knows. I told him of Estel, of who he is and why we must try to do this." Again Elrond's eyes rested on the playing child. "I expected him to protest, but he accepted my judgement without argument, which surprised me." The elf lord paused for a moment and pondered Thranduil's quick acquiescence. "He is willing to try anything at this stage, 'Ro. He wants his son back"

"He is a good father," Elladan stated simply.

"He is," his father agreed. The elf lord suddenly clasped each twin on a shoulder. "Come, my sons. It is time."

………………………………...

As the evening grew darker Imladris' Lord called for servants to bring extra candle globes to light the main healing room. Once this had been done and the candle globes placed in all the sconces in the walls, the servants left and Elrond placed guards outside of the doors of the healing rooms with strict instructions to allow no one to enter for the rest of the night unless he himself called for aid. All present had already eaten and a table with a crystal jug of refreshing cordial had been set to the side of the room. It was going to be a long night.

Thranduil gave up his seat reluctantly, near the head of his son, so that Estel could sit near the prince. Gandalf stood on his left, while Elladan and Elrohir stood on the other side of the bed. Behind them stood Avareth, next to the herb table and within easy reach of the pots of water boiling on the fire. Thranduil took himself to stand at the foot of the large bed. Avareth had fetched him a chair, but he refused it, preferring instead, to stand. He stood straight-backed and vigilant, the hem of his deep green robe flapping gently in the warm breeze from the open window.

On his chair up close beside Legolas sat a pensive Estel, while Elrond stood to the right of him conferring across the bed with Avareth, the two healers checking and rechecking that they had all they could possibly need of healing supplies. The boy sat on his hands and studied the figure on the bed before him.

This was the first time he had seen the Mirkwood elf since their rescue in the woods. If he thought the prince looked bad then, he looked much worse now. The once fair face was so pale and drawn he looked almost transparent. The dark brows and long eyelashes stood in stark contrast to the too-pale skin. His closed eyes looked sunken and bruised, cheekbones so sharp they cast a shadow on his cheeks. Estel bit his lips and struggled with the painful pull on his heart. He slowly reached trembling fingers towards a long arm that lay atop the sheets. The arm felt warm under his fingers, and clammy like a water skin left to long in the sun. He jumped to his feet suddenly and snatched his hand back from the Mirkwood prince as a long fingered hand touched his own arm. Estel looked up startled into the kind eyes of his Ada.

"Give me your hands, penneth." Elrond spoke soothingly and took Estel's right hand in his own, placing it gently upon Legolas' brow. The child's left hand was placed on the elf's chest, right over his heart. Estel marvelled at the slight _thump...thump... thump _that he felt tickle the palm of his hand, and the rise and fall of his hand as breath entered and then left Legolas.

Suddenly, he caught a faint smell of that strange plant that 'Dan and 'Ro told him was called athelas. The smell permeated through the healing rooms, and Estel felt his heart lift slightly as he breathed it in. The smell reminded him of grass in summer after a warm rainfall.

Elrond crouched down behind Estel and put both hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Estel, I want you to think back to the time you first saw Legolas," the elf lord told him in a slow even whisper. "Picture his face then, his smile, his hair. Think of all you remember of Legolas when you talked with him on the archery field. Now close your eyes." Elrond placed a warm hand on the boy's eyelids and Estel closed them, keeping them closed when Elrond removed his fingers. "Picture Legolas, Estel. The colour of his eyes, the light in his eyes as he sees you for the first time..."

His Ada's voice continued on in a whisper near his ear, but he no longer heard the words. Estel breathed in the athelas and thought back to the day the Mirkwood elf had arrived in Imladris. He had noticed the big bay stallion first, the animal muscled and sleek, then the long legged being that had leapt lightly from the horse's back, in hues of green and brown and gold. He remembered seeing the huge ornate bow upon the lean creature's back and had wondered if the weapon was really twice as long as he was tall, like it looked. He remembered the sun glinting off hair the colour of the narcissi daffodils from his favourite garden. He heard again the musical lilting voice that greeted him by name with the words, "Mae govannan, Estel," the familiar Elven name that meant "Hope" sounding like the note of a song as it floated through the air to his ears.

Legolas had bowed low with one hand over his heart, and his hair had swept down over his face. He had then straightened and flicked his hair back with a shake of his head, and Estel had found himself staring into eyes the colour of the deepest, clearest blue that shone with an inner light, like sparkles of sunshine on a rippling pond. The eyes had crinkled pleasantly at the corners as the prince had laughed at a comment by Elladan, and the child had been star struck at meeting his first ever prince, but had turned serious again as Legolas had looked deep into Estel's eyes. At the time, the child recalled thinking that this prince could see right through him.

Then something stirred at the bottom of that deep, clear blue pond. It was like someone had poured a dark and filthy substance into the once clean water. Something black and cruel rose to the surface of those cerulean eyes, and the dancing light had vanished. The smile evaporated, and the prince had turned away from him, striding off into the Last Homely House after the twins. Estel remembered feeling scared, and wanting nothing more than to see the light come back into Legolas' eyes.

Then suddenly, Elrond's voice was back in his consciousness, whispering closely into his ear. "Sing your song, my child," his Ada prompted.

Eyes still closed, the little boy felt several leaves of athelas being pressed into his left hand. His hand was placed once more over the prince's chest, the plant now between his own skin and the _thump...thump...thump_ of the elven heart, but he could still feel it.

"Sing your song, Estel and bring him back to the light," came his Ada's voice, and the child began to sing.

His voice started hesitantly, then grew in strength as the words flowed into his mind and out of his mouth. He was barely aware of doing it. He could only faintly hear his own voice. He could hear the song in his mind and feel the tune in his heart, the words taking form without thought.

_"When the black breath blows_

_And death's shadow grows_

_And all lights pass,_

_Come __athelas__! Come athelas!_

_Life to the dying_

_In the king's hand lying!"_

Over and over the little human sang the ancient verse, the lilting soprano touching the hearts of the gathered elves and wizard. The childish voice flowed smooth and warm, growing louder, more confident as the scent of the herb grew stronger until it permeated the room.

At the foot of the bed, King Thranduil stared transfixed at the child, who stood with eyes closed as if in a trance, that sweet innocent voice carrying such conviction as it pleaded to bring forth the power of the athelas. Once more the song began, louder and stronger than ever before, and the king fancied he heard another voice join in, a mature tenor echoed deep and far away behind the tones of the soprano, then the verse ended and the boy fell boneless to the floor.

TBC.


	17. Sixteen

Warning: Tissues needed, and if I have done this right, loads of 'em.

A.N: We finally get back into Legolas' POV in this one. Just where is the elf prince and what is he going through? Or more importantly, what is about to happen to him? Well, if you want to find out, stop listening to me and go read it!

This chapter is not only beta-ed by **NiRi**, it is dedicated to her. I could not have done any of this with out her encouragement and advice.

Hannon le, mellon nin.

Lena

………………………………...

One Friend to Another

16:

………………………………...

_Legolas had long since ceased his struggles in the inky quagmire. Exhaustion and the burning, freezing pain had taken its toll many hours ago. Or was it days? Years? _

_He could barely think now. He still couldn't breathe. His arms and legs felt like they were chained down, and his head felt fit to burst. There was nothing around him, nothing inside him. Was this death? If so, where were Mando's legendary halls, where was his mother to welcome him with open arms in a tender reunion? Had he done such an evil deed to warrant this agonising punishment? _

_Legolas wallowed in deep thought now, his mind the only part of him he could keep active. _

He hadn't meant to neglect his duties and cause the deaths of so many of his soldiers. He had tried his best, as he always did. Why did they always want more of him, expect him to be the perfect prince and warrior? They wanted some kind of strong invincible being, always the perfect shot, always knowing what to say and do in any situation from calming irate councillors, to shooting down orc, spider and warg.

No, he suddenly thought to himself. It wasn't his people who expected this of him. Had it been his brothers? They had nurtured him when his naneth had died, had made sure he turned up for lessons with the other elflings, be it history lessons or archery and knife work. They had pushed him, strove to make him better than the rest.

"That's not good enough, Legolas!" they had said. "You must try harder, penneth. You can do better than that, Legolas!"

When they had left to sail to Valinor, was it because he was such a disappointment to them? Were they so tired of fixing his mistakes that they had given up on him? He remembered now the ache he had felt when his oldest brother and Crown Prince, Celeblas, had announced to all the family that he was to sail. His son had been killed in an orc raid and his wife Glímara was fading with grief. Legolas had grieved deeply when his young nephew had died. The young warrior had been only thirty seven years younger than him. They had grown up together, practised archery and patrolled together.

He remembered it now, that orc patrol.

He had been there. That was the time he had been captured. He remembered the lashings the orcs had given him then - his back had burned like it was on fire. He had felt the warm blood seep into the waistline of his trousers. He had lost count of the times the whip cut into his skin after the first fifty.

Sirdail had been one of his rescuers. His own nephew had come to rescue him, and had been killed in the fight, while he himself had lived. He had barely got home to the palace alive, wracked with pain and blood loss, but he had lived in the end while his nephew had died. His back had never fully healed from that whipping…………….

And then there was Caladithil. He looked so like their naneth, with the same gentle manner he remembered, the same piercing green eyes. Caladithil had never recovered from the time the patrol he commanded had been cut off by a huge spider nest. For eleven days, he had fought against the spiders under the shadow of Dol Gudur, hacking through webs and traps and ambushes as his warriors got picked off one by one, until only nine of them were left by the time they had been found.

When Cally had finally returned to full health, Legolas had expected him to be the same mischievous, playful brother he had always been. They had been quite the pair when it came to playing pranks on the haughty courtiers that had sought to ensnare the youngest prince and make themselves princesses in Thranduil's court. The stuffy dignitaries that had come to trade wines for weapons or silks hated the days that Caladithil and Legolas held council together. Not much got done on those days. At least, not much in the way of trade agreements.

Legolas fondly remembered his brothers now and all they had got up to, the times they had shared, good and bad. The three had been so alike, yet so very different. No, he realised now, it had not been his brothers that had pushed him for perfection and achievement. Yet Cally changed so much after his last patrol. He didn't laugh anymore. So no one was surprised when he announced too that he was to follow Celeblas and go into the West.

Legolas remembered the sharp stinging pain in his chest the day he said farewell to Caladithil. The brothers' final embrace lasted for a long time until Cally had to pry the younger prince's arms away from him. Then his brother had gifted him with his first smile since the spider ambush. A tender smile from one brother to another, and he had lifted one hand to cup Legolas' cheek.

"Navaer, 'Las," he said then, his voice thick with sadness and love. "Keep Ada safe, protect our people. Love them as we all love you…….and do not forget how to laugh like I have done."

_Do not forget how to laugh_. He had promised his brother he would not. He had promised he would protect the king and the people, and to that promise he had held true. He _had_ forgotten how to laugh. That promise was broken, and he could not remember when he had started to forget.

He had gone straight out on patrol again, after Cally left. He was the last prince of Mirkwood on Middle Earth. His Adar depended solely upon him now, to keep the people safe and the orcs at bay from their borders. Had it been his Ada then, who had pushed him to be all he could be and more, he asked himself now, and not his brothers? Had it been the strong willed, quick tempered king that sent him out on impossible orc raids, against insurmountable odds, and chastised him when he failed? Had it been Thranduil who expected so much from him that he could not deliver? His Adar, King Thranduil - the strong, straight-backed, fair, impartial ruler that all of the elves of Mirkwood followed and adored, and whom men and dwarves feared, hated and misunderstood.

Legolas pictured him now, head bent in studious scrutiny of parchments, letters and battle plans, the crown of leaves and flowers always perfectly centred on his golden locks. The young elf had often wondered just what magic his Ada used that kept that crown so poised on that head. No matter how angry he got, how fast he paced the halls of the palace, how agile he leapt upon his silver stallion, that crown never moved or faltered.

Legolas wished dearly that his Ada was here now. His arms ached to embrace that stiff rebellious king and to cling to those green velvet and silk robes. His heart ached to have that strong body envelope him and protect him from this.

"Ada!" Legolas cried out now in this hell of suffering and pain. If he had the strength left to cry, he would have done so. Maybe he did cry, he didn't know. Maybe his tears got sucked up into the enveloping darkness before they got the chance to fall.

Then once again, the memories came to him, unbidden. Thranduil had begged and pleaded with him not to rejoin the patrols, not to go out again into the shadow, but instead, trust his command to the other trained and experienced captains of Mirkwood's army of warrior elves. Thranduil had embraced him and coddled him, told him he loved him and didn't want to lose him to the Shadow, orcs or spiders, but he hadn't listened. He kept going out with the patrols, he kept up his fight against the evil things of Middle Earth. He fought and he strived and he pushed.

It was all himself, he suddenly realised, here and now in this never-ending abyss of Shadow. Not his brothers, not his father. He was the one who had strived to fight his own single war against the evil that was killing Mirkwood slowly, tree by tree, elf by elf. He had pushed himself to become the best that he could, to be the perfect shot and the perfect commander. One lone elf against the evil Shadow.

He had been so alone all this time. No one could touch him, no one was allowed to get close. He pushed them all away, the elves he grew up with, the warriors that tried to understand and befriend him. He pushed them all way because if he loved no one then he lost no one. If he didn't allow himself to love them, it wouldn't hurt when they died.

He was so very alone, and now he always would be. He almost laughed into the void at the irony of it all. Here he was alone, and it was no one's fault but his own. He knew why, now. It came to him in a blinding epiphany. He had given up. So long ago, even before his brothers had left, he had given up. He had surrendered to the Shadow even while he was out fighting it. It had been inside him all this time, and he didn't know it until now. Now, here in this suffocating blackness of pain, he was so alone, and it hurt. What good had it done? How many of his friends and peers had he truly hurt? All the while believing he was protecting them, he was hurting them. Even his Ada. How many nights, days, weeks did his Ada stare out into the dying forest and cry for him, believing that he would not be coming back?

A great pain welled up inside him until he thought his heart would burst and he would die from it. He waited for it to take him, in fact he welcomed it. A great evil beast was coming for him, and he knew its name. It wasn't some creature conjured up by the Necromancer or some poison invading his body that the orcs had given him. Its name was Loneliness. The Shadow was killing him, he knew. The evil had taken hold of him and was squeezing the life out of him, and darkness had taken his soul. He had given IT his soul the day he had closed his heart to love, friendship and laughter, and now he would pay the ultimate price.

Legolas felt the thrum of evil in the dark before he heard it. He sensed it closing in on him, felt the vibration through the blackness as his last moments and memories passed before his eyes and cut through his heart. He closed his eyes and fought down the mind numbing fear. He hated this with a vengeance, this loneliness. This was not how he wanted to die. He wanted to die a warrior, in a company of warriors who knew and loved him and who would mourn him, if he had to die at all. He was immortal, he had a lifetime of lifetimes ahead of him on Middle Earth and then in Valinor with his brothers and Naneth and Adar and all the faithful friends he had lost. The last thing an elf and creature of light was ever meant to be was alone in the dark.

The rumble of unseen power came closer; he could feel it, could feel the hairs stand up at the back of his neck. Then the pain suddenly spiked in his chest and he gasped as a faint light grew on the edge of his vision. Something came closer through the inky, clinging darkness. A shape hovered just on the edge of the light, on the edge of his vision. He saw a face now, the visage of the last person he would ever expect to see again. The image was blurred and he struggled to focus on it. The vision was far away, small and round with long straggly curls and dark grey eyes that held hope and innocence.

It was Estel.

The one being that he had finally begun to let into his cold closed heart. Why think of him now? Surely he had let the Shadow take him before this little one was of any consequence to him? How could such a small insignificant being mean anything to him now?

Even as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. Innocence was a powerful tool. The child loved unconditionally, and by this innocence, love was given in return no matter how hard he had tried to prevent it. It was effortless to love a child such as Estel. The boy had not judged him, had not tried to push him and make him open his heart to him, and because of that Legolas' heart had been opened. He could not guard his heart against something he hadn't realised was there.

With the acceptance of Estel into his heart, the prince began to feel something else. A warmth spread through his limbs and the pain finally began to ebb for the first time in how long, he did not know. Suddenly he heard music, and words with that music, a song in a lilting soprano and tremulous tenor all at once. The words didn't register, but the melody cut through the dark silence like a new sunrise after a long dark storm. Legolas breathed and floated as the music grew in strength and the darkness faded from around him. Taking a deep sudden sob of breath he caught the unmistakable scent of athelas. As the music defeated the silence and the light banished the dark, the clean smell of the ancient elven herbal remedy flooded lungs too long starved of anything.

The image of the dark haired child before him began to take a more corporeal form, solidifying into something real. Estel seemed to float before him, as he too floated in the growing light that before had been nothing but a freezing, suffocating dark. Dark eyes the colour of the sky after a summer rain, grey with a hint of sun to come, met his across the void. A smile began on the little boy's face, nothing more than a quirk of the lips that grew to a grin, and the boy stretched out an arm towards him. Finding now that he could move, Legolas reached out a hand. The small human arm came closer until he could touch the fingertips with his own. Suddenly his hand was gripped in a warm, chubby palm.

"_You are not alone, Legolas," _the boy suddenly spoke, as the small fingers clasped his own ever firmer._ "They are all here, the ones who love you the most. They always were right here," _the child continued. _"You just didn't know where to look." _

"_Where are they, Estel?" _Legolas asked him, his voice sounding small and scared in this vast place of nothingness.

"_Come with me, and I will show you, Legolas," _the child replied, and the small hand that held his curled its fingers around his wrist and pulled.

TBC.

_I had several OC's in this chapter, so here I will introduce you to them._

_**Celeblas**: Silver Leaf; Crown Prince of Mirkwood and Thranduil's oldest son. _

_**Glímara**: Fiery Gleam in her Eyes; Princess of Mirkwood, wife of Celeblas._

_**Sirdail**: Flowing Feet; Son of Celeblas and Glímara, died on patrol with Legolas._

_**Caladithil: **Moon Light; Thranduil's middle son, nicknamed Cally by Legolas. _

_also:_

_**Avareth: **Noldor;Stubborn Female; Imladris healer to Elrond, once tutor to Elladan and Elrohir. _


	18. Seventeen

_Finally it's the penultimate chapter. It was hard for me to believe that a vignette I came up with long ago could be turned into a long story and one that readers would enjoy. Of course it is my reviewers that kept this going. I hope you all know the value of reviews. Many of you are authors too, so you guys know what a buzz it is to have some one not only enjoy something you have created, but actually take the time to tell you and not be afraid to advise and critcise too. It does mean a lot. So if there are lurkers reading this who are not authors, please remember that. It costs nothing but it means the world to me. _

_This was beta-ed by **NiRi **again, and if you are stuck for something to read when this ends after my Epilogue, go read her stuff. Her stories "Never Again" and "Never Alone" will grab you if you are a fan of the Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn friendship fics. Even if you are not, read her stuff any way, if only to see how a real author writes. Thank you so much, kiddo, for all you have done, and all you have taught me about writing. _

One Friend to Another

17:

………………………………...

Legolas became aware of the warmth first, and he basked in it for a few moments as he became aware of other things, one at a time. The second thing he noticed was the solid support under him of cool sheets and downy pillows, and blankets that enveloped him in comfort. The air around him was thick with the old familiar smell of that herb again, and though he had always hated that smell before, as he lay in the healing rooms in Mirkwood after his many skirmishes, to him now it was as welcome as fresh air.

As he came more aware he heard voices, distant and jumbled at first, then clearer. Hearing words and recognising the people who spoke those words, he kept his eyes closed and listened to the commotion going on around him.

"Give him room, 'Ro…he needs air!" That had been Elladan.

"Both of you give him room!" came a great booming voice in a vibrating timbre that only Mithrandir could produce.

"Lift him up, Elladan. Carry him to the bed and lay him on it." Elrond. Only Elrond could sound so panicked, and yet, in control at the same time. "Avareth, pass me water - he needs to drink."

"Here, give it to me." That voice made a sob catch in Legolas' throat that he barely stifled in time. It was so welcome, so needed by him right now that he had to bite his bottom lip to calm the gamut of emotion that threatened to drown him.

"Of course, my Lord." Now that one he didn't recognise, but the voice was elven and female.

The voices seemed to come closer to wherever he was. Curiosity getting the better of him, and deciding he needed to see what was going on, Legolas opened his eyes. The sudden light overwhelmed him after so long in the dark, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them again, slowly and more carefully, and looked around, he recognised the healing rooms of Imladris. He lay on a large bed at one end of the room, the end near the window where he was always put when he was here before. Elrond had always seemed to understand his need to be near an open window and fresh air. He never noticed that before.

He could see the twins and Elrond, the grey wizard, his Adar and an elleth he couldn't place gathered around the bed next to him. They all had their backs to him and were bent over a small figure on the bed. Not one of them noticed him. His Ada seemed close enough to touch, being the closest to his bed, so he lifted an arm to stretch out to him and grab a handful of that familiar green robe. His arm felt weak and wouldn't quite do what he wanted it to, he couldn't quite reach. Legolas struggled to rise, to give himself some leverage from the bed, but his body failed him completely. He had barely the strength of a newborn kitten, and with a gasp, he fell back heavily onto the pillows. That gasp was all it took for his Ada to hear, and the great king spun around, his face a mask of shock and fear as he turned.

"Legolas?" Thranduil found himself looking into the bleary eyes of his beloved son and it felt like the floor dropped out from beneath him. How he took that step to his son's bed he would never know. All he knew was that suddenly he was sitting on the bed with Legolas clasped to his chest, and his son's fists were gripping his tunic like they never wanted to let go again. "Ai, Elbereth, Legolas. My green leaf….my son."

Legolas clung to whatever he could get hold of and hung on for dear life. His face was pressed against his father's chest so tight he could hardly breathe, but he didn't care. His father smelled of wood bark and rowan leaves and roses, and it was a most welcome and familiar scent.

"So, you finally came back," he heard Elrond say, and gentle fingers combed tenderly through his hair. "Estel did it," the Imladris lord breathed in wonderment. "He brought you back to us."

That sparked a distant memory in Legolas and suddenly there was something more important than the joyous reunion with his Adar. The little bundle on the bed…..Recalling a sudden distant memory of orcs, his heart thudded in his chest. The last time he had seen the child whole was in the hands of those vile beings.

"Estel…." he gasped, his throat constricted through lack of use as his Ada lifted him to a sitting position and supported him from behind "Elrond….. Ada…where is Estel?"

"He is fine," Elladan suddenly appeared in his restricted line of vision. "Just a little over taxed in bringing a certain daft wood elf back to the land of the living." The raven haired elf grinned, then stood aside a step to reveal his twin behind him, a small sleepy looking human boy in his arms.

The child looked tired. He had his arms wrapped around Elrohir's neck, and his face pressed against the twin's cheek. Elrohir took a step closer, just as the boy's face broke out into a wide glowing grin and child and elf prince locked eyes. Before anyone could stop him, the child leapt from his brother's arms and propelled himself onto the bed. Legolas caught him with a sudden strength he didn't know he had and clasped the child to his chest as his Ada had done with him only moments before.

Smiling into the dark tousled hair, Legolas breathed in this new scent, the smell of lavender soap and athelas. Tears of gratitude and deep unbreakable love threatened to swamp him. It was the most delicious smell and feeling he had ever experienced.

"Hannon le, my little hope," the prince breathed into that small bundle of love and energy and innocence. "Hannon le."

………………………………...

It was much later that night, in fact, as the morning crept ever closer, Thranduil and Elrond sat at a table in the healing rooms, several empty food trays in front of them along with a couple of bottles of wine. The two friends sat at either end of the table, each watching the sleeping forms of their respective sons. Thranduil hardly dared take his eyes off the soundly sleeping Legolas. It was all he could do not to keep going over and checking that his son still breathed.

Legolas slept with his eyes closed, once more warmly wrapped in many layers of blankets. He did not look that much different than he had when he lay at death's beckoning door. All that had changed was his breathing, now deeper and more even, and his skin, which had regained a slight bit of colour after he had been talked into taking his first proper meal in days.

Even then, Legolas had eaten little. Elrond had not pushed him, saying his appetite would come back in time, once he was up and moving about again. The Mirkwood prince was still very weak, accepting that he could not hope to be back to full health for a while, after his terrifying ordeal in Shadow. It was also Elrond's theory that his healing abilities were not yet back to normal either, but when that happened his scars would fade, and he hoped, the elf's dark memories.

The Imladris lord studied the face of Thranduil as the king studied his son. He could see many thoughts flicker across the king's countenance, some of them he could only guess at. The doubt that lingered on Thranduil's face was plain to see.

"He will recover, mellon nin." Elrond spoke softly, so as not to disturb the room's other occupants. "Your son has been to hell and back. He just needs time and rest."

Thranduil sighed "I accept that. But what worries me is, what will happen to him when he comes home?" The king turned and looked straight into his friend's eyes. "Nothing has changed in Mirkwood, Elrond. If anything it has become worse, and it will get even more so, long before it gets any better."

"You speak the truth," Elrond replied in a regretful tone that hinted of a deeper knowledge. "He is welcome to stay here for as long as he wishes. I would see him fully recovered before I would even contemplate him going home with you. His physical scars will fade a lot quicker than the mental ones. He has much to come to terms with, and the best way he can do that is here, among his friends"

Thranduil nodded silently, then looked down and seemed to stare for a long moment at his folded hands. Legolas had talked long into the night, long after the twins had retired to bed, the strain of the past few days and nights taking a toll on even them. Estel had been talked into settling into the bed next to Legolas, and he had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, barely before his head had time to hit the pillows.

Legolas spoke of many things with his Adar and Elrond, admitting to giving up the fight in his heart against the Shadow, to pushing away his friends and family, and his undeserved guilt at all the lives lost and battles fought in Mirkwood. Both elder elves were shocked to learn he had blamed himself for his brothers sailing and had taken the worries of the entire realm upon his own slim shoulders.

Much talking, crying and comforting was done in those couple of hours. Then the exhausted elf had simply laid back in the bed and fell sound asleep, as if a huge weight had been lifted from him. His healing had begun.

Studying Thranduil's face again, Elrond saw there the same danger that had taken Legolas and weakened him against the onslaught of Shadow. "It is not your fault," he stated simply, and the king glanced up at him sharply.

"If it is not mine then whose, Elrond?" Thranduil returned. "As his king, as his father, I should have seen that he suffered."

"You heard him admit that he hid it for so long, he didn't even know how to ask for help when the Shadow began to take him," the elf lord told him patiently. "You admitted yourself, in your letter to me, that you had implored him to stay at home and give himself time to heal, but to no avail. That is why you sent him to me, mellon nín."

Elrond couldn't help allowing a sad smile to touch his lips at the memory of the letter. It seemed so long ago…… "I remember saying to Mithrandir that Legolas was too well schooled in the ways of a prince. I told the wizard that I couldn't just lock Legolas in the healing rooms and tie him to a bed!"

Thranduil didn't smile at the image the other elf's words painted. "Maybe you should have," he told Elrond blankly.

"What would that have achieved? He would have hated me, rebelled against me. It would have done more harm than good. You know this." Elrond thought back to the night he had told the prince he could not leave Imladris, which in turn had prompted the stubborn elf to sneak off at dawn with a curious five year old at his heels. "No, Thranduil, things happened as they were meant to happen. Fate had weaved her cloth, and Legolas had to go through what he did. He will come out on the other side of all this a better elf, a much stronger warrior. He will still need reminding now and again that friends are not burdens, love is not a hindrance, and that it is not a betrayal to laugh in the face of danger and death."

Elrond found himself now watching the other figure that slept soundly in the bed next to the prince. The small boy was dwarfed by the huge bedstead and heaped blankets, so much so that all that could be seen of him was a mop of dark curls on the pillow.

"I know just the person to remind him," Elrond said quietly, and Thranduil followed his eyes to the other bed.

"Speaking of that letter, I must apologise for my comments regarding the human child," the Mirkwood king admitted humbly. "I thank the Valar that you did take a certain human waif into your home."

Elrond met the king's eyes once more. "As do I, mellon nín," he smiled. "Every day, I thank the Valar for every laugh he utters, every day of chaos he causes, every smile he puts on my face and on the faces of all the elves in Imladris. We were all blessed the day he came into our lives."

"And what of his future?" the wood king enquired curiously. "I would like to see the child grow to a man, and fill that empty throne in Minis Tirith."

"His path is already laid," came the deep enigmatic timbre of Gandalf's voice from the doorway. "It is up to him whether he will walk it or not."

Thranduil raised his goblet of wine then, to both of his friends. "Let us pray to the Valar, he walks it," he stated as Elrond followed his lead, and they clinked the goblets together in a toast and a prayer.

"And let us hope that next to him on that path, guarding his back, walks a brave young Mirkwood warrior, with a true aim and a song in his heart," Elrond added.

The Grey Wizard smiled and lifted one of the other goblets, clinking the glass to each of the other two. "I will drink to that."

………………………………...

TBC.

_Now it is just the epilogue left. It will round up any loose ends, and hopefully give you the warm fuzzies. _

_ strokes Fred's hairy little head Yes, Freddie my boy, you are the only warm fuzzy that **I** love. Honest. Throws him three lurkers _


	19. The Epilogue

_And now that nice fluffy rounding-up of the loose ends._

One Friend to Another

18: The Epilogue

………………………………...

It was to a bright, but chilly, Autumn morning that Legolas awoke. Jumping out of bed feeling refreshed and light hearted, he dashed to the bath chamber to quickly wash, then back into the room to find his clothes. Pausing to fetch his brush from the dressing table, the elf stood in front of the mirror to work at the tangles that his blond mane had acquired during the night.

Setting the brush down and straightening to begin his braids, Legolas caught sight of his torso in the mirror. He lifted his right hand and ran an index finger over the small indent on his chest. No bigger than his fingertip, the scar had all but faded, leaving behind only the indent where the torn muscle had yet to fully reform. He no longer had pain from the old wound, and his torso had filled out again, the broad muscled shoulders of the archer, strong and defined after weeks of practise. Once more his skin was tanned and glowing after a summer of days in the sun in Imladris, his eyes bright and hair shining.

He felt and looked the picture of perfect health. The only remnant from his Shadow sickness was the occasional nightmare, when he woke up shaking with imagined cold and struggling for breath against a suffocating force that was no longer there. It was because of the nightmares that he was still here, in Imladris. Lord Elrond would not let him go home until they had completely gone, but thankfully they were growing fewer and farther between. Elrond had warned him that the dark would still probably be the worst torment for him for a long time. He hated to feel closed in and confined by a deep, far reaching darkness, so candle globes were kept always in his room. He couldn't go to sleep unless at least one globe was lit and his door was left open. The only time, since his ordeal, that he had slept soundly all night in the dark, was the one time a late summer storm had disturbed Estel.

The child had retired long before the Mirkwood prince and the twins, and when Legolas finally made his way to his room, it was to find the child curled up on the bed with Legolas' blanket over his head, shaking with fear at the thunder. Estel had flung himself into Legolas' arms and cried that he would never be able to sleep again, unless he could stay here with the Mirkwood elf until the storm blew away. So, Legolas had let the boy stay in his bed, and the two were fast asleep long before the storm had begun to ease. It was only in the morning, when he had risen, that Legolas realised he had slept all night with no candle globes and his door closed tight.

Finishing his hair, Legolas quickly dressed in brown leather riding trousers, white silk undershirt and russet suede tunic with green silk trim. Hurriedly, he pulled on his boots and vambraces, then snatched up his weapons, quiver and travel pack, putting them on over his back as he walked out the door.

Turning the corner that lead from the family wing to the rest of the house, Legolas ran into Elrond.

"My apologies, Elrond," he excused himself to the ruffled, but grinning Lord, "but I must hurry or those twin orcs of yours will leave without me." He moved to go on his way, but Elrond stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Twin orcs?" the Lord of Rivendell queried, one eyebrow raised so high, it almost reached his hairline.

"My apologies again…." Legolas started, then thought better of it "No, wait…actually twin orcs suits just fine, mellon nín. They put frogs in my bed last night."

"Frogs?" the other eyebrow rose to join its brother at his hairline. "Are you sure it wasn't Estel who did this ghastly deed?"

Legolas paused as if thinking deep. "No, it was 'Dan and 'Ro, I am pretty sure of it," he stated confidently. "No doubt revenge for the time when Estel and I……." Catching himself Legolas paused again. "Umm…never mind!"

"Legolas?" Elrond tried to give the young wood elf his best glare, but failed miserably. "Alright fine, penneth. Keep your secrets. The twins and Estel are in the dining hall having breakfast. I told them to let you sleep long this morning. You must not tax yourself today," he warned gently. "You are all still going hunting, are you not?"

"With your permission, Elrond, yes." Legolas, at least, had the decency to look sheepish. The last thing he wanted was for the ancient elf to change his opinion that the wood elf was finally recovered enough to go on this first proper hunt since his illness.

Elrond studied the young elf. "How did you sleep last night, penneth?" he asked in all seriousness, looking for any signs of unrest or disturbance on the elf's fair face or in those startling cerulean eyes.

"I slept well, Hir nín," came the reply, and though the title was a cheeky swipe at the elf lord, the answer was honest. Elrond chose to ignore the title, and giving the wood elf's arm an affectionate squeeze, he released him.

"Good. Just be sure to eat well before you go, and be home before dark" he instructed. "At least for Estel's sake, if not your own. He is young yet, and the nights turn colder. I do not want my favourite little adan catching a cold."

Legolas answered with a genuine smile and a quick nod. "I promise, we will be home before supper, mellon nín. I will let no harm come to him."

Elrond smiled back. "I know."

………………………………...

Elrond continued on to his study, to compose the letter he had been meaning to write to his friend Thranduil. The Mirkwood king had returned to rule his realm over a month ago, once he had been assured his son was well on his way to healing. Before going, however, the king had made Elrond promise he would write every once in a while with a report on how his son was doing.

Entering his study, Elrond heard the joyous sound of elven laughter and a human giggle coming from down in the garden below. He couldn't resist going to the window to take a peek outside at the scene of Legolas, Estel and the twins striding across the lawn on their way to the stables. At least, Legolas was striding, the twins were laughing so hard they were barely able to walk, the object of their amusement gallivanting about behind Legolas in a poor attempt to imitate the wood elf's long-legged walk. Estel's short legs were being stretched to their limit in an attempt to follow the long steps of the wood elf.

"Stop that, Estel!" Legolas barked at the child, but even from here, Elrond could see the prince was struggling not to laugh.

Estel kept up his long steps for another moment, then stumbled on a tree root and would have went down, only Legolas snatched him up before the boy could meet the ground. The prince swept the child up and perched him on his shoulders.

"Come on, Strider," Elrond heard the elf say to the boy as he took off at a smooth run across the grass, the boy's hands held securely in his own. "Let's beat those lazy brothers of yours to the best horses!"

Laughing to himself at the antics below as the small group disappeared from the garden, Elrond sat at his desk and took up a quill and parchment, then began writing his letter.

"_My dear friend Thranduil," _Erond wrote."_You son is fine…………." _

**The End. **

Translations:

H**í**r nín: sindarin; my Lord

mellon nín: sindarin; my friend

penneth: sindarin; young one,

adan: sindarin; man, human.

hannon lé: sindarin; thank you.

Navaer: sindarin; farewell

_Wow, I can't believe that this had ended. This writing thing is fun, torture, rewarding, frustrating, fun and tiring. Did I mention fun? Hmmm...I wonder if I have another story left in me somewhere? Fred taps the keyboard impatiently Yes, yes, my sweet. We can begin that new story soon. Just give me a day or two to recover from this one! _

_clears throat and begins the "Oscar Acceptence Speech" _

_I want to thank **NiRi,** first of all, for taking the time to beta this story and give me the much needed prods when I needed them, even though she is busy writing her own masterpiece. _

_I could not have done this without you. I also must thank my regular reviewers, Silvren Tinu, AspenJules, Aldalena (no relation) SiriusBlackFan2, IwishSan and childoftheking, Evergreene and grumpy123 (love that name). I must mention Deana, for also being one of the first established authors to encourage me to keep this going and turn my vignette _

_into a full blown fic. Any chance of a new LOTR Legolas-centric fic from you again some time soon, sweetie:)_

_The rest of you know who you are and I thank you from the heart of my bottom. Sorry, bottom of my heart. _

_Ok, so is that everybody? Did I leave anyone out? Ouch! Fred...you bit me! Oh yeah, sorry. _

_I want to also thank Fred, for being my muse and giving me the imagery that a lot of people seem to think was a nice part of this fic. _

_Do you think NiRi wants you back now, my precious? You think she might let me keep you? _

_**hears knock at the door** _

_Quick, hide Fred! She's coming for you! _

_bows graciously _

_Hannon lé. _

_Lena_


End file.
